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“Miranda!” exclaimed phil, starting up in glad 

SURPRISE. 




LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
TwoGoDles Received 

APR 21 1906 



Copyrighted, 1906. 

BY 

BROADWAY PUBLISHING COMPANY. 


All Rights Reserved. 


The design of this tale is to impress on the mind, 

How base are the motives that move the hearts of mankind; 
How oft innocence suffers, and guilt lives without care — 
A sight, alas ! that fills thinkers with thoughts of despair. 
How unfair is the rule that society obeys. 

Which condemns the betrayed, and pardons him who 
betrays. 




















PREFACE. 


Just a moment’s pause, dear reader, before you 
go further. It is to disabuse your mind of an 
erroneous impression it may have received from 
the serious tone of the initiatory lines. Though 
this story has been written with another purpose 
than merely to amuse, yet the author, aware that 
what is pleasant is always more welcome than 
what is unpleasant, has endeavored to keep the 
latter out of view. To accomplish this end, he has 
tried to disguise Melpomene by enveloping her in 
the mirthful vestments of Thalia. 

Those, then, who love laughter, should content 
themselves with gazing at the exterior; while 
those, who would seek the more serious purpose, 
must peer beneath the mask. 


B. K. 















CONTENTS. 


CHAFTKR FAGK 

I. A Man of the World i 

II. An Unfortunate lo 

III. A Married Couple 22 

IV. An Ordinary Family 42 

V. Gathering of the Types 57 

VI. The Consequences 79 

VII. Ditto 94 

VIII. Brief and His Satellite 118 

IX.- Brief Has Visitors 138 

X. Cynic and Unfortunate Meet 162 

XI. Matters Remain in Statu Quo 175 

XII. Some of the Types Bestir Themselves 186 

XIII. Another Gathering 210 

XIV. The Gathering Breaks 231 

XV. Revelations 251 

XVI. Returns to Lighter Scenes 272 

XVII. A Parting of the Ways 281 

XVIII. The Cynic in His New Guise 299 

XIX. Repentance 308 

XX. The Interview 322 

XXL Variant Moods 329 

XXII. The Point of View 357 

XXIII. A Medley of Law 373 

XXIV. Reconciled 402 

XXV. Outwitted 412 

XXVI. The Types in Final Form 434 







ODD TYPES. 


CHAPTER I. 

A MAN OF THE WORLD. 

It was a glorious morning — the budding of a 
perfect day. The spreading rays of the ris- 
ing sun, filtering through the light, rolling mist, 
were like the streaming glances of an innocent 
child, just waked from slumber — and wherever 
they lit. imparted a delicious freshness that was 
extremely grateful to the senses. Here and 
there, too, amid the wilderness of stone, peeped 
out the green foliage of the trees, sparkling 
darkly under the pearlish dew, and adding to 
the scene just that touch of color necessary to 
give relief to the pervading bleakness. Over 
all arched the grand, pure air, permeated with 
that electrical vigor which strangers visiting the 
city of New York have so often wondered at and 
admired. 

By degrees as the sun rose higher in the 
heavens the city started into life, window shades 
fluttered up like so many opening eyelids, and 
the streets and avenues became filled with hurry- 
ing crowds of bustling people. Apparently every 
one was awake, and was making ready to as- 


2 


Odd Types 


sume the burdens of the day. But appearances, 
as the reader has doubtless learned from ex- 
perience, are often deceptive, and in this instance 
they were certainly so. At least, there was to the 
general rule one exception, and to this excep- 
tion your attention is now invited. 

In one of the many bachelor apartments stud- 
ding the upper section of the town there was at 
this moment reposing in blissful slumber a young 
man of interesting personality, with whom it is 
needful to become more nearly acquainted. His 
surroundings were rich and attractive, and plain- 
ly showed that their owner had a liberal supply 
of that apparently much despised, but really 
much adored, commodity — money. 

The two rooms comprising the apartment were 
luxuriously furnished. One — the reception-room 
— was carpeted in deep red, to which a strong 
contrast was formed by two long, low, dark 
wood cabinets that lined one side of the wall and 
which were filled with many costly curios. On 
the other side was a high mantle, builded in 
Dutch fashion, beneath which extended an ample 
hearth. In the center of this mantle stood a 
bronze^ figure of a discus thrower, flanked on 
both sides by smaller figures of dogs, cats and 
apes — the whole arrangement presenting a pecu- 
liarly grotesque appearance. A center table, 
littered with newspapers and numerous maga- 
zines, three large armchairs and a leather couch 
with heavily carved legs, completed the furnish- 
ings. As one stepped from here into the bed- 
room, it seemed like passing from a subterran- 
ean cave into the open air. The light blue car- 


Odd Types 


3 


pet, the glittering brass bedstead^ and the gilded 
dressing table with its silver toilet articles and 
large swinging mirror — all appeared to give you 
a merry, laughing welcome. On the walls, here 
and there, hung collections of photographs of 
popular actresses, occasionally interspersed with 
small paintings in oil, of beautiful women in 
startling dishabille. But all these pictures hardly 
equalled in number the portraits of the occupant 
himself which, scattered all about the room, 
stood framed, or lay unframed, upon nearly every 
article in it. Of these there must have been at 
least thirty, and each of them showed the sub- 
ject in a different pose. Of clocks there were 
none, implying that the monarch of these domin- 
ions was indifferent to the passage of time. 

Now, into this interior on this particular morn- 
ing, through a lattice in the Venetian blinds, gaily 
dashed a prankish sunbeam, and starting at the 
sleeper’s breast began gradually to creep up to 
his face. Just as less fortunate mortals, forced 
by stress of circumstance to labor for a liveli- 
hood, nervously pulled out their timepieces and 
noted with a sigh that in another hour it would 
be noon, the little sunbeam, growing bolder, made 
a forward movement, and lit upon the sleeper’s 
lips. The warmth of its caress seemed to make 
a deep impression, for immediately the young 
man opened his eyes, and smiled. Throwing a 
careless glance around him, he moved to one 
side, and placing his hands under his head, went 
off into a day-dream. 

Evidently, judging from the expression of his 
face, his reflections were of a pleasant nature. 


4 


Odd Types 


Probably he was recalling to mind some shy and 
pretty maiden whom, by arts of which he was a 
past master, he had decoyed into loving him; 
and whom, after he had robbed of her peace of 
mind, he had laughingly thrown aside for some 
newer attraction. Or, perhaps, there arose be- 
fore him the desperate efforts of matchmaking 
mammas to hook him for their marriageable 
daughters. Whatever his ruminations, he seemed 
reluctant to leave them, and it was only with a 
very strong effort that he at length arose from 
his bed. 

As he glanced into the mirror, what he saw 
there could not but partially justify his inordin- 
ate vanity. Charles Felice was certainly a hand- 
some man. Of lithe, athletic build, with a face, 
the features of which were perfectly regular— if 
we except, perhaps, a slightly receding chin, and 
rather thick lips (the latter, however, covered 
with a drooping, blond moustache) — and with 
imerry blue eyes, and a ruddy complexion, it was 
no wonder that he was popular with the opposite 
sex. Of a jolly, careless temperament, it was 
not surprising that he was also well liked among 
his own. Men looked upon him as a harmless, 
good fellow, and the women — the women con- 
sidered him simply perfect. 

But beneath this fair exterior of manner and 
appearance there were many not quite admirable 
traits. His careless air was not natural, but as- 
sumed, and was used to conceal a cold and cal- 
culating worldliness that had no regard for any- 
thing human or divine. Conscious of his good 
looks, his self-conceit knew no bounds, and he 


Odd Types 


5 


believed that if he desired to exert himself no 
woman could resist him. His selfishi;iess was as 
great as his vanity, and his lust greater than his 
selfishness. 

To be sure, many of these blemishes of char- 
acter may have been due to his past life. He 
had never known the loving solicitude of a 
mother, nor the restraining influence of a father. 
The former had died when Charles was only four 
years of age, and the latter some two years after- 
ward. Luckily his father, having been fairly 
successful in his undertakings, had left at his 
decease an estate of over a hundred thousand 
dollars. Of this estate, a trust company was, by 
the father’s will, appointed the trustee, with a 
provision that the net income from it should be 
applied to the support of Charles until he reached 
the age of twenty-one, when he was to receive 
the principal. 

At the time of his father’s death a distant rela- 
tive of his mother named Agatha Sentley, a poor 
spinster, happened to be in New York. In ap- 
pearance and habit of thought this woman was 
a typical old maid. Her thin, attenuated body — 
almost six feet in height — seemed fairly to bristle 
with sharp angles and corners. The skin on her 
gaunt face was drawn as taut as the head of a 
drum, and the frizzes that surmounted her fore- 
head stood off from it as though in indignant 
protest at having been put there. However, in 
spite of her scrawny appearance. Miss Sentley 
was not a severe woman in any sense of the term. 
On the contrary, she was inclined to lean toward 
the side of leniency, especially if such leaning was 


6 


Odd Types 


likely to bring her any profit. In fact, the one 
strong trait in her character was the eye she had 
for the main chance. Wherever there was a 
cent to be made, there Agatha Sentley was cer- 
tain to be found. Hearing, therefore, that 
Charles, as far as money went, was amply pro- 
vided for, she generously came forward and of- 
fered to care for him. Upon her application, no 
one else appearing, she was named the guardian 
of his person. 

Intent upon fully discharging the duties of 
her trust, she immediately entered Charles in 
one of the best private schools in the city. This 
move served a double purpose. It showed a 
proper regard on her part for the child’s future 
welfare, and at the same time helped to relieve 
her from the care of him for the greater portion 
of the day. In the leisure thus afforded she 
figured out minutely in what way to make the 
most of the fortunate circumstances in which she 
found herself. Feeling that such a chance came 
to one only once in a lifetime, she fully made up 
her mind to conduct matters in such a manner 
that, at the termination of the guardianship, she 
would not be forced again to resort to the needle 
for subsistence. To carry out her plans, it was 
essential, of course, that the child should always 
feel contented. Consequently she indulged Felice 
in every caprice, and he, naturally, considered 
her the best woman in the world. 

While Charles was still under the age of four- 
teen, Miss Sentley found little difficulty in man- 
aging him. His demands for money were few, 
and he gave little heed to the texture, or appear- 


Odd Types 


7 


ance, of his clothes. After, however, he had 
reached that age his habits became more expen- 
sive, and his interest in his personal appearance 
more acute. But even then Miss Sentley still 
managed out of the amount allowed her to lay 
aside a comfortable sum. It was only when 
Charles had passed his sixteenth birthday that 
she really found any trouble in making a good 
profit. For now, having become acquainted with 
a rather fast set, Felice’s requests for money in- 
creased in frequency and amount. She tried to 
hold him in restraint and indeed often reproved 
him for his extravagance, but he only laughed at 
her for her pains. He had long ago discovered 
her weakness, and knew he had her at his mercy. 
wSo, whenever she was too obdurate in her re- 
fusal to his demands, he had only to hint at a 
change of guardians to gain his way. Affairs 
continued in this state until Felice reached his 
majority. Then, after numerous mutual expres- 
sions of tender regard (in which there was not 
the slightest iota of sincerity on either side) they 
parted. Miss Sentley went off to a small town 
in the West, and there settled down to live on 
her savings the remainder of her life, while 
Felice at once moved into bachelor apartments 
and began to act the role of a gentleman of 
leisure. 

Many of his friends, basing their opinions upon 
his past performances, freely predicted that the 
moment Felice came into possession of his pat- 
rimony, he would break out into wild extrava- 
gance and would cut a wide swathe in the world 
of gaiety. But they had mistaken Felice's char- 


8 


Odd Types 


acter completely. Though he indulged in wine 
and women, those pursuits of a young man duly 
approved by society, he nevertheless was too 
shrewd to squander his money heedlessly. ^ In 
fact he was in this respect a model of discretion, 
and always lived strictly within his income. As 
the years went by and some lucky investments 
added considerably to his revenue, he, of course, 
widened the sphere of his pleasures, but never 
in any instance beyond his means. In fact his 
very selfishness protected him from running the 
risk of impoverishment. 

However, his income being sufficient to enable 
him to indulge in every form of dissipation, the 
young man availed himself of the opportunity to 
the full limit, and as a consequence of this mode 
of life, soon became a thorough man of the world : 
cynical, heartless and irreverent, but withal al- 
ways gay. It must be admitted, unfortunately, 
that at times ugly stories were told about some 
of his escapades ; but the world pardoned every- 
thing in view of his youth, his wealth and his 
charming personality. Not only did the world 
pardon him, but the female portion of it stretched 
out eager hands to drag hinl into the matrimonial 
net. Thus far, however, he had eluded them suc- 
cessfully. 

This, then, was the young man who, on this 
particular morning, was carefully completing his 
toilet in the bachelor apartment already described 
to the reader. After a careful survey of him- 
self in the glass, Felice at last left his rooms and, 
crossing the street, entered a restaurant and ord- 
ered breakfast. His meal finished, he hailed a 


Odd Types 


9 


newsboy, bought a paper, and calling on the way 
for his mail, returned to his apartment. There, 
donning his smoking jacket, and with a frag- 
rant Havana between his teeth, he sat down to 
the table and proceeded to open his letters. 

He had hardly pulled the first one out of its 
envelope when the bell rang. Dropping the mis- 
sive, Felice stepped to the door and opened it. 

‘'May I come in?’' asked a female voice, hesi- 
tatingly, as Felice peered out into the dark hall. 

“Oh, it’s you !” exclaimed Felice, recognizing 
the speaker as she advanced a few steps. “Why, 
certainly,” he added, holding out his hand to her 
with a show of apparent frankness. “I’m glad to 
see you.” 

At this invitation a woman, closely veiled, but 
with an air of graceful abandon about her, came 
forward, and Charles, closing the door behind 
her, led the way through the hall to the recep- 
tion room. 


lo 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER IL 

AN UNFORTUNATE. 

Now Felice’s words of welcome were as hol- 
low and as much the reverse of truth as every- 
thing else about him, from his gaiety to his air 
of a gentleman. Though he uttered the words, 
‘T’m glad to see you,” in a warm, earnest man- 
ner, as though he really meant them — in reality 
this sudden appearance of Dolly Dash was ex- 
tremely distasteful to him. 

‘‘Not angry at my calling here, are you?” 
asked Dolly, in a rather supplicating tone, as 
they emerged from the hallway. 

“Oh no, not at all,” replied Felice aloud — 
though what he thought would not look well in 
print. “Take a seat, won’t you ?” he added, 
politely offering her a chair. 

As Dolly sat down and proceeded to unloose 
the veil that covered her face, Felice took his 
stand before her, smiling and expectant. Though 
outwardly calm, he was inwardly in a state of 
doubt and apprehension. He somehow instinct- 
ively felt that this visit boded him no good. 

It took Dolly some time to undo her veil, which 
had suddenly developed such an unusual affec- 
tion for the hat that it seemed averse to parting 


Odd Types 


II 


Company; when, however, after several tugs, it 
finally fell away it revealed a face upon which 
one could read its mistress’s past history as plain- 
ly as in an open book. The features were small, 
the contour almost oval. The light brown hair, 
brushed back carelessly, showed a forehead 
rather low. The brown eyes, looking out be- 
neath prettily arched eyebrows, had in them an 
expression of frankness peculiarly fascinating. 
The nose was straight and rather short. The 
mouth, with its curling lips, closely resembled a 
red rosebud with the petals parted. In short, the 
whole, completed by a dimpled chin, conveyed 
to the observer an impression of childish inno- 
cence. But apparently just as the features had 
been on the point of maturing into a soft, sweet 
serenity, something had happened to check the 
process. And so, in place of the expected tender- 
ness there was a stony rigidity that made the face 
appear hard and cold. 

Poor Dolly ! She was merely another example 
of man’s inhumanity to woman. Reared in the 
country, amid humble surroundings, she prob- 
ably would in time have wed some farmer in the 
neighborhood, raised an interesting family and 
at length passed into old age, happy and honored. 
bJut in an unlucky moment she had been dis- 
covered by Felice, and fascinated by his hand- 
some face, and deluded by his false philosophy, 
she had succumbed to his evil influence, and be- 
come a thing at which women — not more vir- 
tuous, but more wary — pointed the finger of 
shame. 

In the same village where Dolly and her 


12 


Odd Types 


mother resided lived Philip Gloom, a retired 
merchant, and when Dolly, in the first flush of 
her infatuation with Felice, followed the latter 
to New York — this retired merchant came for- 
ward and not only assisted the disconsolate 
widow with money, but made personal efforts to 
ascertain Dolly’s whereabouts and bring her 
home again. In this quest, however, he was un- 
successful. 

Dolly was disinclined to return because she 
lacked the courage to face the scorn and con- 
tempt which would be certain to be meted out 
to her, and Felice encouraged her disinclination 
because he was afraid lest, once among her 
friends, she might disclose his agency in her 
downfall. 

^ But one day her mother who, since Dolly’s 
disappearance, had rapidly declined in health, 
suddenly took a turn for the worse, and feeling 
that her end was near, sent for Philip Gloom to 
come to her. He responded at once, and at the 
mother’s frantic solicitations, inserted advertise- 
ments in all the New York papers, calling upon 
the wayward daughter to hurry home before it 
was too late. Two days passed without any 
response ; but on the third, hardly an hour before 
the woman expired, Dolly rushed into her arms. 
That hour was one of supreme bliss to the 
mother, of bitter remorse to the daughter. 

After the last sad rites were over, Philip 
Gloom, who seemed to have conceived a deep in- 
terest in Dolly, told her that if she would remain 
in the town and behave herself properly, he would 
see that she was always provided for. Rashly 


Odd Types 


13 


Dolly gave her promise to do as he asked. Un- 
fortunately she had not considered the full ex- 
tent of human meanness. 

At first when women shrank from her as from 
a pest, and men ogled her in an offensive man- 
ner, Dolly paid little heed. But when week 
after week passed by and the attitude of those 
who had formerly been her friends remained un- 
changed; when every advance by her toward 
friendliness was coldly repulsed; when even the 
young men, scions of highly cultured families, 
who prided themselves upon their refinement and 
gentlemanliness, made her the object of vile re- 
marks as she passed near them, her courage 
failed, and packing up her few belongings, she 
fled in the night, leaving no trace behind her. 

With what little money she had she made her 
way back to New York, and naturally turned for 
succor to the man who had been the original 
cause of all her misery. But here, again, she 
received an insight into human heartlessness. 

When, in reply to Philip Gloom's advertise- 
ment, she had left New York to go to her dying 
mother, Felice, who had begun to tire of the girl, 
congratulated himself upon never seeing her 
again. Imagine, then, his chagrin when, after 
hardly two months' absence, she once more ap- 
peared before him. What to do in order to rid 
himself of such an encumbrance now became the 
chief concern of the young man's life. And he 
went at the solution in characteristic fashion. 
Instead of growing cold and distant, as your 
more shallow, gilded youths would have done, he 
began to display toward her greater affection 


14 


Odd Types 


than ever, and on the pretext of seeking to give 
her amusement, introduced Dolly to a number 
of his most dissolute acquaintances. Night after 
night would they meet these boon companions, 
in one place or another, and engage with them 
in wild debauches; and night after night would 
Dolly slip a peg lower in the moral scale. By 
degrees other women, more hilarious than happy, 
came to join in these orgies, until at length Dolly, 
who at first had been greatly shocked at the 
loose manner in which all sacred relations were 
treated by them, began to look upon it all as a 
matter of course. When she had arrived at that 
point, Felice took the next step. 

From speaking of other women in terms of 
warm regard in Dolly’s presence, Felice now 
proceeded to lavish his caresses on them before 
Dolly’s very eyes. These actions naturally 
aroused her anger, and she took no pains to con- 
ceal her indignation. But when she found that 
the only result of her chidings was to excite the 
others’ ridicule and laughter, she desisted; and 
in the hope of reawakening Felice’s love, fol- 
lowed the example of the rest, and became ex- 
cessively boisterous and abandoned. Many a 
time with an aching heart she would join in their 
carousals, and outdo them all in wild hilarity, 
and many a time her laughter would ring out the 
loudest while hot tears would be blinding her 
eyes. But all these desperate efforts to win 
Felice back to her were in vain. Finally, realiz- 
ing that he was lost to her forever, she became 
desperate, and regardless of consequences, hop- 
ing, trusting, praying that all would soon be ove**, 


Odd Types 


x.S 


she plunged recklessly into the whirlpool of dis- 
sipation. When Felice saw this, he heaved a sigh 
of relief and laughed more gaily than he had 
done for many a week before. 

Dolly's beauty soon brought her many admir- 
ers; but now that her heart was broken and all 
her ideals shattered, she thought to ease her dis- 
appointment by causing misery to others. So 
it happened that often after pretending the deep- 
est affection for some particularly wealthy vot- 
ary, she would suddenly withdraw her favor, 
and mocking his melancholy, would leave him, 
disconsolate and penniless. The number of men 
whom she thus wrecked was very large, and 
finally even persons of her own class began to 
regard her as a woman without a heart. But 
was this really true? Was it not rather the blind 
effort of an embittered soul to revenge itself for 
lost illusions? 

In time, Dolly became less ferocious, and then 
she changed from feverish gaiety to cynical calm. 
In fact, in the short period of two years, she had 
run the gamut of all the emotions. Beginning 
with the intense joy of motherhood, she had rap- 
idly passed through all the successive grada- 
tions of parental bereavement, galling disen- 
chantment. sullen sorrow, frantic but impotent 
rage, and deep despair — finally ending in that 
ultimate of human wretchedness, dull indiffer- 
ence. Once, indeed, aroused from her vicious 
torpor, she came to Felice and asked him to help 
her back into respectability, either by giving her 
a monthly allowance or aiding her in obtaining 
a position for her self-support. But the latter 


i6 


Odd Types 


received her proposition with ridicule, and de- 
clared that a girl as pretty as she was would be 
foolish to work like her less fortunate sisters. 
She should make hay while the sun shone, he 
said. We only lived once, and so should try to 
get from life all the enjoyment there was in it. 
Besides, he added, people would never forget the 
past, and no matter how hard she might strive 
to regain their esteem, she would never succeed. 
And then, a life of so-called respectability was, 
generally, for girls like her, a mere bare exist- 
ence, bordering on starvation. By such argu- 
ments and others of a similar kind, Felice grad- 
ually dispelled Dolly’s ardor for reform, so that 
finally, when she left him, her chances for re- 
demption from the old life were further off than 
ever. She had come to him with somewhat of her 
former soft sweetness about her, but she went 
away with a hard, cruel expression in her face, 
and a laugh that sounded like the death rattle of 
dying virtue. 

After this episode Felice saw Dolly very sel- 
dom. The only occasions on which he met her 
were either when by chance they happened to 
visit the same theatre, or when, pressed by neces- 
sity, Dolly would call upon him for a loan. To 
be sure, Felice knew that whatever money he 
gave her would never be returned, but he had 
not yet arrived at the point where he could 
screw up sufficient courage to refuse her. When, 
however, he found such visits becoming more 
and more frequent, he made up his mind that it 
was time to call a halt, and so awaited a favor- 
able opportunity to put his resolve into practice. 


Odd Types 


17 


Now, as Felice stood before Dolly watching her 
unloose her veil, it suddenly occurred to him that 
here was the chance that he had been hoping for. 
Stroking his silky mustache, Felice smiled at the 
thought of Dolly’s surprise when he would refuse 
her request; for he felt convinced that she had 
again come to borrow money from him. Just as 
Felice smiled, Dolly chanced to glance up at him, 
and thinking it was meant for her, smiled archly 
in return. 

‘TVe come to ask the usual favor,” began 
Dolly, assuming a demure air, and carefully fold- 
ing the veil that lay in her lap. 

‘The usual favor?” inquired Felice, pretending 
not to understand. 

“Yes. You know. I need some money.” 

“Again? Why, where is the hundred I gave 
you two weeks ago?” 

“Gone,” answered Dolly, with a deep sigh. 

“Well, how about the Baron?” 

“Oh, the Baron be hanged,” replied Dolly pet- 
tishly. 

“What, so soon?” asked Felice laughing. “I 
thought he was a perfect gold mine.” 

“So did I — at first. But it was a delusion. 
Why, I’d hardly worked the vein a week be- 
fore I struck bedrock,” said Dolly, in a tone 
of disgust. 

“That was certainly awkward,” returned 
Felice, again laughing, and sinking into an arm- 
chair opposite her. 

“I should say so,” responded Dolly earnestly, 
“especially as it occurred just when I wanted to 
buy a diamond sunburst” Now this was a lie. 


i8 Odd Types 

As a matter of fact Dolly, at her wit’s end, and 
without a penny in her purse, had come to Felice 
as a last desperate resort. 

‘‘And you didn’t get it?” he inquired. 

“How could I when I had only eight hundred 
dollars, and the price was a thousand ?” 

“So you gave it up, eh?” asked Felice care- 
lessly, 

“Oh, no. I reflected a moment and then I 
thought of you,” answered Dolly. Looking at 
him archly, she added: “Wasn’t that good of 
me?” 

“Very,” responded Felice, rather dryly. He 
began to suspect what was coming; but Dolly 
pretended not to notice it. 

“There's a dear, liberal fellow, thought I,” she 
continued. “I’ll just ask him to help me out, and 
so, here I am.” 

As she ended Dolly glanced at Felice with a 
feigned shyness that would have done credit to 
a Miss just out of boarding school. The latter, 
however, merely stroked fis mustache and let 
his eyes wander toward the ceiling. 

After waiting a few moments, during which 
her heart almost stopped beating from dread of 
a rebuff, she lost patience. 

“Well,” she began rather sharply, “aren’t 
you — ” 

“It’s impossible, Dolly,” cut In Felice. 

“What !” cried Dolly, excitedly rising from her 
chair and unconsciously betraying her inward 
agitation by crumpling the veil m her hand, “you 
refuse to let me have the two hundred ?” 

“Not only the two hundred, but any amount,” 


Odd Types 


19 


replied Felice. Dolly gasped in surprise. ‘‘You 
don’t know, Dolly,” added he, with an attempt 
at a sorrowful mien, ‘‘how it pains me to say this 
to you; but say it I must, just the same.” 

Dolly gazed at his face a moment, undecided, 
then going to him and laying her hand on his 
arm, she said in tones which she tried to render 
calm, “Say, Charlie, you’re guying me.” Felice 
shook his head. “Come now,” she added, coax- 
ingly, “let me have the money. There’s a dear 
fellow.” 

“I can’t, Dolly,” said Felice, shifting uneasily 
in his chair. “I can’t. That’s all there is to it.” 
Then, as he saw an incredulous smile spreading 
over Dolly’s lips, he added: “I’m not joking — 
really.” 

“What do you mean? Have you lost every- 
thing ?” 

“Oh, no, I haven’t lost anything.” 

“Then why can’t you — ” 

“Because, my dear girl,” interrupted Felice, 
speaking with slow, deliberate accent, “I have 
just sufficient to take care of myself, and I can’t 
be burdened in this way any longer. You see,” 
he added, leaning back in his armchair, and 
watching Dolly narrowly, “I am perfectly frank 
with you.” 

For an instant Dolly stood dumbfounded; but 
as soon as the full significance of Felice’s words 
burst upon her and she realized his cruel intent, 
her lips parted and she let out a hard, rasping 
laugh that made even Felice shiver. 

“I see,” she retorted in a grimly quiet way, 
“since you have no further use for Dolly Dash 


20 


Odd Types 


you consider it foolish to waste any money on 
her. Very well, as you like,’' she continued, go- 
ing to the door. “You have made me what I 
am. I shall never forget that, and some day, per- 
haps, I will be able to repay you for your kind- 
ness. Mark my words, Charles Felice,” added 
Dolly, turning around and pointing her finger at 
him, “that day will come sooner than you think.” 

“Oh, now,” remonstrated the latter, rising 
from his chair and going toward her, “you 
mustn’t leave me with such a threat as that. 
Here,” he added, holding out his hand, “let us, 
at least, part friends.” 

“Never — never,” exclaimed Dolly, angrily. 
And with that she swept out into the hall and 
was gone. 

Felice gazed after her for a few moments with 
a look of grim amusement on his face; then 
shrugging his shoulders, returned to the table. 
“Oh, these women,” he muttered as he sat down, 
“these tigresses with their velvet paws, what 
puzzling creatures they are! Here I was ex- 
pecting a violent outburst of passion and lo! 
everything passes off without a ripple. Well,” 
he continued, a smile breaking over his face at 
the recollection of his success, “I am certainly rid 
of her, for good.” With this comforting reflec- 
tion, Felice again turned his attention to the let- 
ters before him. 

The first one he opened was an invitation to a 
dinner and a dance from a very rich widow with 
a very commonplace daughter whom she was 
making every endeavor to unload upon Felice. 
“rU go,” thought he, “for she always has a select 


Odd Types 


21 


crowd. But as for her scarecrow of a daughter 
— nay — nay — not for me.’' Yet Felice, whenever 
he called there, was continually pouring in the 
mother’s ears an uninterrupted stream of compli- 
ments regarding the comeliness of her daughter, 
and she, deluded woman, actually believed him 
sincere. 

The next two letters were notices from two 
exclusive clubs, where only men of good standing 
in the community, and of unblemished moral 
character (Heaven save the mark!) were ac- 
cepted, and of which, of course, Felice was an 
honored member. The last missive was enclosed 
in a dainty pink envelope, and as Felice drew it 
forth his face lit up wonderfully. ‘‘Ah,” he 
mused, as he scanned the lines, “at last I seem to 
have made an impression. Yes,” he continued, ex- 
amining the letter more closely, “she certainly 
trembled when she wrote those first three words. 
If she isn’t in love with me now, she isn’t very 
far from it. Well, she’s worth all the trouble 
I’ve taken, at any rate. Besides, since her hus- 
band hasn’t sense enough to appreciate her, I’m 
doing a charitable act by not permitting her 
beauty to go to waste. If possible. I’ll take a 
run up there this week. She evidently feels lone- 
some without me.” 

With such noble thoughts flitting through his 
brain, this typical man of the world carefully re- 
placed the letter in its envelope ; and, lighting his 
cigar, which had gone out, watched the smoke 
curl upward with a self-satisfied air, as though he 
had really done some great and praiseworthy 
deed. 


22 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER III. 

A MARRIED COUPLE. 

On the outskirts of a town, not many miles 
from New York, there stood at the time of this 
tale, a large, roomy house, built in the colonial 
style, and so situated as to enable its occupants 
to obtain a fair glimpse of the majestic Hudson, 
rolling away in the distance. Surrounding the 
building, on three sides, was a spacious ex- 
panse of greensward, with here and there a tree 
to give variety to the landscape. From the house 
curved a wide driveway, leading with a broad 
sweep to the gate that furnished an entrance to 
the grounds from the public road. To keep out 
interlopers a high brick fence had been con- 
structed, with barbed wire running along the 
top of it, which extended around the entire prop- 
erty. The distance of the house from the high- 
way assured its inmates absolute quiet, and was 
really one of the principal reasons that had 
recommended it to its present owner. 

At the time of his purchase, Philip Gloom, 
though almost forty years of age, was still un- 
married, and persons who only knew him super- 
ficially, predicted that he would continue in this 
state to the end of his days. They could not con- 


Odd Types 


^3 


ceive how a man who seemed to have an aver- 
sion toward everything human could ever feel 
the influence of such a tender passion as love. 
Hence when they heard of his acquisition they 
concluded that the misanthrope, as they were 
wont to call him, would immure himself in his 
new home, alone, and would be seen no more 
until the time came to carry him thence to his 
grave. In some respects these prophets were not 
far wrong. Phil Gloom certainly had very little 
love for his own species, and was only too happy 
to be rid of their presence. If it was his inten- 
tion, therefore, to procure a place where human 
face and human voice would rarely obtrude them- 
selves, he could nowhere have found one more to 
his purpose. 

As a matter of fact, however, his plans con- 
templated no such isolation. It is true, he was 
pleased at the prospect of uninterrupted quietude 
that the location afforded, but only because it 
would enable him to concentrate his thoughts 
more completely upon those problems of life in 
which he had in recent years taken a great deal 
of interest. Beyond that, what had most at- 
tracted him were the large rooms, the beautiful 
library, and the grand view to be had from the 
windows. Above all, perhaps, was the gratifi- 
cation it gave him to contrast his present situa- 
tion with that of former days. For Philip Gloom 
had not always been prosperous. 

Sprung from poor immigrants who had, late 
in life, left their native land and come here in 
the hope of bettering their condition, he had had 
a childhood in which hunger and suffering had 


24 


Odd Types 


been predominant features. This was followed 
by a boyhood and youth in which playtime was 
wholly omitted. From the day that he and his 
brother Joseph became capable of taking care 
of themselves they had been put to work and 
had been expected to contribute to the family's 
support. Fortunately, Philip found immediate 
employment in a department store in New York. 
Here he remained for some years, when, with his 
savings and the assistance of a few friends, he 
started in business for himself. From the be- 
ginning, owing either to his native ability as he 
himself thought, or to his rare good fortune, as 
others claimed, his enterprise proved highly pros- 
perous and in the course of time reached the 
forefront of the city's large establishments. 

When he had arrived at this point in his 
career, where other men would have looked for- 
ward to still higher triumphs. Phil began to 
entertain thoughts of retirement. For this, there 
were several reasons. In the first place, his par- 
ents having died, he had, as far as he knew, no 
other kith or kin, except his brother Joe, and he 
was satisfied that his fortune was not only suffi- 
cient for himself, but for his brother also, in the 
event that he required assistance. And then, too, 
he had grown weary of the turmoil of a large 
city, and yearned to retire to some small town 
where he could indulge his love for reading and 
contemplation to his heart's content. Besides, be- 
ing naturally of a morose disposition, his experi- 
ences had not tended toward lightening his mood 
or increasing his love for the companionship of 
his fellows. On the contrary, his attrition with 


Odd Tytes 


25 


the world had mtensified his pessimism. There- 
fore, finding himself at the age of thirty-eight the 
possessor of a considerable fortune, he resolved 
to withdraw from mercantile life and follow in 
other fields pursuits of a character more con- 
genial to his temperatment. Accordingly, hav- 
ing disposed of his interests in New York, he 
completed arrangements to betake himself and 
his belongings back to the little town where his 
parents had lived and died, and where his brother 
Joseph, now married, was making strenuous ef- 
forts to eke out a bare existence. 

However, when Phil left New York he did 
not go alone. In fact he was accompanied by a 
woman — and a young woman at that, whom he 
had brought to the depot in a closed carriage. 
As the two walked down the platform toward 
the waiting train the attention of many a stranger 
was arrested by the marked contrast between 
them. He, of supple figure, with black hair and 
dark complexioned countenance, to which the 
drooping corners of the lips gave a sad, depressed 
expression, and from which the dark brown eyes 
looked out in a half sympathetic, half frowning 
manner, was walking along, as though lost in his 
own thoughts. She, on the other hand, of splen- 
did form, with a girlish face, framed in light 
auburn hair and lit up by a pair of sparkling, 
dark blue eyes, was tripping at Phil’s side with 
the gay, careless air that one so often sees in 
girls of eighteen or thereabouts. Whenever Phil 
chanced to address her, which was not often, she 
would look up at him in a frank and affectionate 
but deferential way that was extremely capti- 


26 


Odd Types 


vating; and under the influence of her glance 
his sombre features would be seen to brighten 
and his frown almost to disappear. 

The circumstances that had brought the two 
together were certainly unusual. It seemed, that 
among the friends who had assisted Phil when he 
first started in business for himself was a man 
named Hallam. Of a jolly disposition, just the op- 
posite of Phil’s, the two were naturally attracted 
to each other and soon became the closest of in- 
timates. But while Phil’s affairs prospered, his 
friend’s began to decline, and after experiencing 
one misfortune after another they finally culmi- 
nated in the death of his wife. Though he still 
had Miranda, a pretty little girl of two years, left 
to console him, Hallam, after his wife’s death, 
seemed to lose heart ; and a short time afterward 
he also took to his bed, from which, as it proved, 
he was destined never again to arise. During 
this last illness of Hallam, Phil visited him con- 
stantly, and many, many times the two discussed 
Miranda’s probable fate if her remaining parent 
were taken from her. When, toward the end, 
Phil saw that his friend was beyond hope of re- 
covery, he, in order to relieve the latter’s mind 
from the care of his daughter’s future, magnani- 
mously promised him that, if she became an or- 
phan, he (Phil) would take her under his own 
protection. Shortly afterward Hallam died, and 
Phil, as soon as the funeral was over, true to the 
promise he had made, took Miranda in charge and 
conducted her to a woman whose good qualities 
he had had occasion to test a number of times, 
and in whose hands he felt sure that the child 


Odd Types 


27 


was safe. There he left her for five years. Then, 
believing her of proper age for receiving instruc- 
tion, he removed her to a well-known boarding 
school, where she was to remain until she reached 
the age of eighteen. During this latter period 
Miranda saw Phil only once a year ; but from 
inquiries which she made, both of the school au- 
thorities and of Phil, she learned the sad history 
of her parents’ lives, and the manner in which 
Phil had come to assume his guardianship over 
her. Being of an impulsive and generous nature, 
Miranda conceived a deep regard for her scowl- 
ing protector, and he, in turn, seemed gradually 
to warm towards her. Her sunny disposition ap- 
peared to fascinate him, and it was noticed that 
he, who was rather sour and abrupt with every- 
one else, with her was always considerate and 
kind. 

It happened that her term of attendance at 
boarding school expired just at the time that 
Phil was arranging for his departure from New 
York, and so he resolved to take advantage of 
the coincidence, and have Miranda accompany 
him. The day before leaving he wrote his brother, 
notifying him of his plans and requesting that he 
meet Miranda and himself at the railroad station. 
Accordingly, when, after an hour’s ride, they 
reached their destination, they found Joe and his 
wife, Emma, awaiting them. They immediately 
went to Joe’s house, where they had supper ; after 
which Phil left to arrange for his board at the 
only hotel in the town, while Emma showed 
Miranda to the room which she was to occupy 
as long as she remained with them. 


2S 


Odd Types 


At first, Joe and Emma acted toward Miranda 
in a rather lukewarm manner ; but when, after a 
few days, Phil hinted that any attention to her 
would be certain to be liberally rewarded, their 
attitude underwent a wonderful transformation — 
such a transformation, in fact, as only the power 
of money can bring about. Their exhibition ot 
assumed solicitude at once drew from Miranda, 
unsophisticated schoolgirl that she was, a warm 
and intensely grateful response. This frank, open 
overflow of affection, however, was misinter- 
preted by Emma to her detriment, she privately 
informing her husband that she believed the 
girl's innocent air v/as only affected to deceive 
them, and that she was probably much shrewder 
than they suspected. But when Miranda had been 
with them several months, Emma declared that 
she was in error, and, womanlike, again twisted 
Miranda’s good traits into bad, by claiming that 
a person so open-hearted was most certainly a 
fool. To be sure, she did not express these opin- 
ions in Miranda’s presence. Such oracular say- 
ings were always reserved for delivery in the 
private conversations with her husband. 

Meanwhile, Phil was a frequent visitor at the 
house ; and as the months went by, Miranda and 
he began to display toward each other a greater 
and greater affection. When Emma and Joe first 
discovered this, they tried, by ridiculing and abus- 
ing Phil, to alienate Miranda from him. They 
feared lest, if he married, he might have children ; 
and they knew that then every prospect of their 
own inheritance from him would be at an end. 

But all their efforts in this direction were in 


Odd Types 


29 


vain. Miranda not only felt a deep gratitude 
toward Phil for what he had done for her, but 
her vanity was vastly tickled by the evident love 
that she had excited in a man whom all the rest 
of the world had found either cold and indiffer- 
ent or sour and abusive. Swayed by these two 
feelings, Miranda never for a moment thought 
of refusing him, should he ask her to become his 
wife. When Emma saw this, she veered around 
again, and, reverting to her first estimate of 
Miranda, told her husband that Phil’s protegee 
apparently well knew on which side her bread 
was buttered. At their private conferences, after 
lengthy discussioon, Joe and Emma finally con- 
cluded that, since they could do nothing to pre- 
vent the catastrophe, it would be to their interest 
to ingratiate themselves with Phil’s future wife 
by furthering it. So they once more changed 
their tactics, and whenever opportunity offered, 
praised Phil to. Miranda, and Miranda to Phil. 

Thus matters ran on for some two months, 
when finally, one particularly pleasant evening, 
Phil called upon Miranda to take a walk with him. 
In the course of it, he found occasion to tell her 
of his deep affectioon, and asked her whether she 
was willing to accept him as a husband. For an- 
swer, Miranda impulsively flung her arms about 
his neck, and kissed him. Deeply as he was 
touched by this ingenuous avowal of her love, 
Phil did not permit his feelings to run away with 
his worldly sense. He suggested, therefore, that 
she take a few days for consideration before 
giving a definite reply; for, as he frankly told 
her, many persons would be found who would 


30 


Odd Types 


dissuade her from marrying him, owing to the 
disparity of their ages. He pictured to her the 
covert sneers that would curl the lips of some of 
her dear friends, as they would refer to her as 
''the old man’s darling,” and the many other cut- 
ting remarks that would be made, because she 
had chosen a man so much older than herself. 
He also referred to the possible divergence of 
their tastes. He, of course, loved quiet and seclu- 
sion, while she, perhaps, having seen little of the 
world, would probably prefer to participate in 
its frivolities. If that were so, there was danger 
that each would irritate the other, and the result 
would be unhappiness. It was for these reasons, 
he said, that he wished her to give the matter 
such careful thought; for, he declared, a thou- 
sand times rather would he endure all the misery 
of losing her, than that their union should after- 
ward cause her one moment’s regret. When he 
had finished, Miranda, still in those years when 
the impulses of the heart come undisguised to 
the surface, and the affections have not yet been 
blunted by hard experience, merely pursed up her 
lips for another caress. Having received it, she 
lovingly folded her arms about his neck again, 
and vowed that she loved him, and him alone. 
She was ready, she added, to follow wherever 
he might lead ; and if it were necessary for his 
happiness to give up the entire world, she was 
quite ready to do so. Oh, Youth! Youth! how 
prodigal thou art in promises ! What could Phil 
do ? What would any lover do under the circum- 
stances? With his own inclinations to assist 
Miranda, his hesitancy vanished, and he took her 


Odd Types 


31 


at her word. And so, when they returned to his 
brother’s house, they were no longer mere friends, 
but had become parties to the most sacred com- 
pact that civilized beings can enter into. 

To be sure, the moment Joe and his wife saw 
the manner in which Phil and Miranda entered, 
they surmised that the inevitable had happened. 
They gave, however, no intimation of this, and 
when at length Phil made the announcement of 
his and Miranda’s betrothal, affected an air of 
surprise that could not have been distinguished 
from the genuine article. As soon as they had 
permitted a proper time to elapse for recovering 
from their pretended astonishment, they pro- 
ceeded to overwhelm the lovers with the usual 
eloquent platitudes always uttered on such occa- 
sions, adding, of course, such other polite lies as 
their ingenuity enabled them to coin. Joe de- 
clared that he was proud to own such a sister-in- 
law as Miranda; while Emma assured Phil that 
she had hoped and prayed all along for just this 
consummation. To those who know the world, 
it is probably unnecessary to descant upon the 
sincerity of these avowals. As for those who do 
not, it is best to leave them happy in their ig- 
norance. 

When Emma and Joe had finally concluded their 
felicitations, Phil informed them that Miranda, 
at his request, had agreed to make no announce- 
ment of their engagement to anyone besides them- 
selves, and that as soon as he could find a suitable 
residence, they would be quietly married, with- 
out the customary fuss and feathers attendant 
upon such ceremonies. 


3 ^ 


Odd Types 


commented Emma, in her shrill, high- 
pitched voice, “do you think that would be quite 
right ?” 

“Why not?"' inquired Phil, beginning to frown. 

“Because,” replied Emma, rather apologeti- 
cally, “both of you have friends here, and in New 
York, and they might feel themselves slighted in 
not receiving an invitation. 

“Oh,” rejoined Phil, “there’s no fear of that. 
On the contrary, in their hearts they’ll thank us 
for having saved them the expense of a wedding 
gift. If, after we are settled, curiosity should 
drive them to pay us a visit, they’ll be welcome. 
If not, I, for one, will lose no sleep over it.” 

As Phil thus expressed his rather uncompli- 
mentary estimate of their respective friends, Mi- 
randa nodded approval, though she knew little of 
the bitter, worldly experience that had rendered 
her future husband so misanthropical. 

Now, though Miranda openly acquiesced in 
the plans formulated by Phil, she in reality felt 
a deep regret that he had vetoed a wedding cere- 
mony. Emma, by her womanly instinct, imme- 
diately detected this, and, when they were alone, 
reconciled Miranda to the present situation by 
assuring her that after her marriage she would 
aid the latter to wean Phil from some of his queer 
fancies. She then proceeded to offer Miranda, 
gratuitously, valuable worldly advice. Among 
other sage admonitions, she warned Miranda not 
to be too frank with her husband. “You know,” 
she said, “there are many little things which a 
man is incapable of understanding or judging. 


Odd Types 


33 

When you get in such a dilemma, come directly 
to me. I will help you.’’ 

This apparently kind offer on Emma’s part 
made a deep impression on Miranda, and paved 
the way, as Emma intended it should, to future 
close intimacy. 

Meanwhile, Phil was looking earnestly about 
him in search of a home. In less than two weeks 
after his engagement, he luckily came across the 
advertisement of the proposed sale of the house 
already described. To inspect it, buy it, and fur- 
nish it, took him only three weeks more; and 
within two months from the evening on which 
they had plighted their troth, in the parlor of this 
newly purchased residence, in the presence of 
Joe, Emma and the officiating clergyman, Phil 
and Miranda were made man and wife. 

The first months of their wedded life could 
very well be passed over in silence. They were 
no whit different from those of other newly mar- 
ried couples. Each was devoted to the other, and 
seemed to have lost utter thought of self. In his 
eyes, she was an angel ; in her eyes, he was a god. 
During the day, Miranda would bustle around, 
attending to the supervision of her household, and 
really believing herself to be a very busy woman ; 
while Phil would either wander about town, or 
run down to New York to look after his invest- 
ments — in his own estimation, an extremely busy 
man. At night, these two, imagining themselves 
fatigued, would repair either to the library or to 
the music room. If to the former, Phil would 
take up a book and read aloud; while Miranda, 
comfortably settled in a chair, would apply her- 


34 


Odd Types 


self leisurely to some needlework, now and then 
nodding her head, and smiling, as though highly 
entertained by what she was hearing. Sometimes 
Phil would stop, and repeat some particularly 
fine passage. 'Tsn’t that beautiful!’’ he would 
say enthusiastically. '‘Exquisite,” Miranda would 
reply, though, to tell the truth, she had paid so 
little heed to what was said that she had not un- 
derstood a word. Again, Phil, upon completing 
some very brilliant character study, would ex- 
claim with deep, appreciative ardor: "Ah, he’s 
the master, after all 1” To which Miranda would 
respond, "Yes; I always liked him. In fact, he’s 
my favorite writer.” But if she had been sud- 
denly called upon to give the name of this favor- 
ite "him,” the chances are that she would have 
been unable to do so. 

On the other hand, when they chanced to step 
into the music room, it was Phil who became the 
dissembler. While Miranda would seat herself 
at the piano and pour out her soul in song, Phil 
would lean back in his chair in an apparently at- 
tentive attitude. Occasionally, Miranda would 
comment on some song, with "I think that’s very 
sweet, don’t you?” To which Phil would re- 
spond, "Very;” though, as a matter of fact, with 
his thoughts elsewhere, he had not heard a note. 

In this way the first year of their wedded life 
passed by without untoward incident, and by rea- 
son of their little deceptions, without discovery 
by either, of the difference in taste and tempera- 
ment between them. Besides, the more Miranda 
studied Phil, the more she found to admire in 
him. His gruff and abrupt manner, she soon dis- 


Odd Types 


35 


covered, was merely a hard shell that contact 
with the world had caused to grow over an ex- 
tremely soft and sympathetic soul; and, as time 
went on, she became so accustomed to his pe- 
culiar w^ays that she no longer noticed them. He, 
on the other hand, seemed daily to discover in her 
some new phase of sweetness to render her more 
dear to him. 

Unfortunately, however, nothing in this world 
endures for long; and so, over this happy union, 
as happens in all human affairs, there finally came 
a change. Exactly what was the cause of it would 
be hard to say. Whether it was that the glamour 
of novelty was passing off, or that continuous 
happiness, like too many sweetmeats, was becom- 
ing nauseating, will always remain a mystery. 
Whatever the reason, the change was certainly 
there, and it had come like lightning out of a 
clear sky. 

One evening, as Phil was seated in his library 
reading, and Miranda half reclined in an arm- 
chair near him, gazing dreamily before her, there 
suddenly rushed into her mind the thought that 
this tete-a-tete life they were leadingwas becoming 
very wearisome. It also happened that, precisely 
at this moment, Phil stopped to ask her opinion 
of what he had just been reading, and, chancing 
to look up, caught her in the midst of a yawn. 
For answer, Miranda gave him a vacant stare. 
Then, with a long-drawn sigh, she confessed that 
she had not been listening. For an instant, Phil 
glanced at her angrily, then directing his atten- 
tion again to the book, said in a rather sharp tone 
of voice, ‘‘Never mind,’’ and, compressing his lips 


36 


Odd Types 


as though to prevent more words from escaping, 
continued to read — ^but now, in silence. Miranda, 
seeing that he was displeased, arose and went to- 
ward him. With a coquettish movement of her 
arm, she raised his face toward hers, and, smiling 
winsomely, said, ''You'll forgive me this time, 
won't you, Phil?" 

"It is hardly necessary to ask that," replied 
Phil, in his usual serious way. 

"Come," she added, taking the volume from 
his hand and laying it on the table before them, 
"put that ugly book down. I want to talk to 
you." 

"Well?" queried Phil, looking at her affec- 
tionately. 

"Do you know," she continued, assuming an 
earnest manner that was exceedingly becoming, 
"I've been thinking." 

"Thinking?" echoed Phil. "Of what?" 

"Why, that by — " Then she stopped. "Now, 
you won't be angry, will you ?" 

"No," nodded Phil. 

"Well," resumed Miranda, "I've been thinking 
that, by the way we are living, we are missing a 
great many pleasures." 

"Pleasures?" repeated Phil, quietly. 

"Yes," responded Miranda, becoming more en- 
ergetic. "There are any number of amusements 
that we have missed, simply by not making an 
effort to enjoy them." 

"For instance?" 

"Theatres, card parties, and — other social gath- 
erings," explained Miranda. 

"Theatres 1" Phil replied. "Why, my dear, 


Odd Types 


37 


situated as we are, we can very well do without 
them. If you seek something to harrow up your 
soul, you need but go among the poor, right in 
our own town, and you will find enough to make 
you weep for years, let alone hours. If you wish 
to laugh, you can find it all here,” and he waved 
his hand toward the bookcases. ''As for social 
gatherings,” he continued, "what pleasure can 
possibly be derived from them? They are noth- 
ing but a conglomeration of shams. If you went 
to them, you would be merely a hypocrite among 
hypocrites. At such functions, every friendly 
look is a falsehood ; every kindly word, a decep- 
tion. The people, who attend them, all have 
axes to grind. The young girl goes there, to 
find a husband; the married woman, to out- 
shine her neighbor ; the bachelor, to catch an 
heiress ; the married man, to inveigle some new 
victim into his swindling business schemes. And 
card parties ! They merely bring you into closer 
contact with contemptible humanity. Ah,” 
sighed Phil, "how often have I envied Adam 
and Eve!” 

"Adam and Eve!” repeated Miranda in sur- 
prise at the Strang allusion. "Why, Phil?” 

"Because,” replied he, "they had no fellow- 
creatures to annoy them.” 

"But, Phil,” protested Miranda, "not every 
one looks at these matters in the same light that 
you do. Now, for instance, myself ; I know that 
I would enjoy an occasional social party very 
much, if only for the change it brings to the 
current of one’s thoughts.” 


38 


Odd Types 


''Do you mean that you would like to give a 
party?’" 

Miranda nodded, and looked at Phil, like a 
child who had asked for something which it 
feels is not quite right. 

"And if you gave one,” inquired Phil, "who 
would there be to invite?” 

"Oh,” exclaimed Miranda, "any number of 
people. But I wouldn’t want a crowd, you 
know — merely a few select friends.” 

"I didn’t know we had any,” remarked Phil, 
facetiously. "Can- you give me their names?” 

"Certainly,” replied Miranda. "First, there 
is Mr. Grab ” 

"A man,” commented Phil, "who on the pre- 
tense of gathering curios, borrows everything 
of value, and forgets to return it. A borrower, 
with a bad memory, to my mind, is no better 
than a thief.” 

"And then,” went on Miranda, "there arc 
Mrs. Shoddy, and her daughter, Minerva ” 

"Worse and worse,” broke in Phil. "Mi- 
nerva is tolerable, though her blue-stocking airs 
are sometimes very trying; but Mrs. Shoddy!” 
and he threw up his hands — "well, I haven’t suf- 
ficient command of language to describe her. 
However, go on.” 

"Well, there is your old friend, Mr. Demos.” 

"My old friend 1 Not at all. He is merely 
an acquaintance; but his continuous associa- 
tion with politicians has blunted his sense of 
propriety. He thinks that, outside of the po- 
litical world, as in it, when you have met a man 
twice, you have already acquired the right of 


Odd Types 


39 


addressing him by his first name; and after the 
third meeting, you are closer to him than his 
own brother. Yet, if it were not for his idea 
that he is a great orator, he would be quite en- 
durable. Are there any more?” 

‘'Let me see. Yes. Of course, it is hardly 
necessary for me to mention Joe and Emma.” 

“Hardly,” replied Phil. “They seem to have 
been born for the sole purpose of tormenting 
me. 

“Why, Phil!” interjected Miranda, reproach- 
fully. 

“It’s true,” he returned. “Emma is constant- 
ly conjuring up some imagined slight, of which 
I, of course, am always the perpetrator, while 
Joe converts every effort on my part to aid him 
into an intentional humiliation. However,” 
added Phil, shrugging his shoulders, “I sup- 
pose, there is nothing to do but endure it.” 

“If this is the way you regard the persons I 
have already mentioned,” observed Miranda, 
with a slight pout, “what will you say to my 
next name?” 

“Who? Felice?” Miranda, blushing, nodded. 
“Oh, Felice is good enough to while away the 
time with, occasionally. In former years, I ad- 
mit, I rather liked him; but lately his gaiety 
irritates more than it amuses me.” 

“If that is so, then suppose, as an antidote, 
I invite your lawyer, Mr. Brief. He is dignified 
enough, goodness knows.” 

“Ah,” exclaimed Phil, “there’s a man after my 
own heart. When he says that he enjoys my 
company, I know he is sincere; for whether he 


40 


Odd Types 


visits me, or I visit him, it means money in his 
pocket; and, after all, money is the touchstone 
of all human feeling.” 

‘‘Then it’s settled that I may have a party?” 
asked Miranda, coaxingly, clasping Phil by both 
hands. 

“To please you, we’ll make a trial,” replied 
Phil, with a sigh. 

At these words, Miranda sprang forward into 
Phil’s arms, and overwhelmed him with caresses. 
Then, nestling close to him, like a spoiled child 
whose most extravagant whim had been un- 
expectedly gratified, she began enthusiastically 
to outline the sort of entertainment she in- 
tended to provide for her guests. She dwelt 
lovingly on the courses they would have for din- 
ner, and hovered with aaticipatory relish over 
the music and the games. To all this, Phil lis- 
tened in silence; and when, at length, Miranda 
announced her intention to retire, and kissed 
him, he returned her salutation rather coldly. 

As Miranda left the room, Phil looked sor- 
rowfully after her, and for a long time kept his 
gaze in the direction of the door without mov- 
ing. Finally, bending forward, he took up the 
book before him, a faint suspicion of tears ap- 
pearing in his eyes. “Ah, well,” he muttered, 
as he tried to shake off the feeling of depression 
that had come over him, “of what use to antici- 
pate. The reality will come soon enough. 
Alas! the dream of happiness is over. Miranda 
has evidently tired of me, and so seeks diversion 
elsewhere. I can see it; I can feel it. This 
party is the first step. Who knows what may 


Odd Types 


41 


happen afterward/’ Then opening the volume 
in his hands, he endeavored, by riveting his at- 
tention upon its contents, to obliterate the un- 
welcome thoughts that were fast crowding upon 
him. 

Meanwhile, in the quietude of her own room, 
Miranda was dwelling with justifiable elation 
upon her recent triumph. She had not expected 
so easy a victory, and her gratification, in con- 
sequence, was correspondingly greater. How- 
ever, this surrender of her husband was far more 
momentous than even Miranda herself realised. 
It was the first break in the absolutism of Phil’s 
supremacy; it was a long step forward toward 
the establishment of Miranda’s insubordination. 
Though she did not formulate the thought in 
words, yet Miranda’s instinct told her that if 
she could thus easily overcome one of Phil’s 
most pronounced antipathies, she would find 
little difficulty in combating his lesser ones. She 
determined, too, in future campaigns, to consult 
Emma, as she had in this ; for it was the latter’s 
brain that had planned the tactics, by following 
which Miranda had obtained her present suc- 
cess. With the resolve, therefore, to acquaint 
Emma of the result on the morrow, Miranda 
fell asleep. 


42 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER IV. 

AN ORDINARY FAMILY. 

The next day opened bright and beautiful. As 
soon as breakfast was over, Miranda, having 
donned her hat and cloak, entered her carriage 
and had herself driven to her brother-in-law's 
house. This journey, though it took only twenty 
minutes, seemed to Miranda in her impatience, 
interminable. Upon her arrival, hardly waiting 
for the coachman to assist her, she jumped out 
hastily, and quickly mounting the front steps, 
rang the bell. In response to her ring, Jane, a 
servant who had been with the Glooms for a 
number of years, opened the door, and to Mi- 
randa's disappointment, announced that Mrs. 
Gloom had gone to her husband's store and 
that no one was at home except Willie. 

Upon Miranda's request that her nephew be 
brought to her, Jane replied that just at that mo- 
ment, she did not know where Willie was. The 
last she had seen of him was about a half-hour 
ago, when in spite of her prayers and warnings, 
the dear boy (the word '‘dear" was spoken be- 
tween gritting teeth) was ruthlessly trampling 
down the potato plants in Mr. Grab's garden, 
next door. "And I want to say, ma'am," con- 


Odd Types 


43 


eluded Jane, dolefully, ''that If that boy beant 
kept more strict, there’ll be murder done here, 
as sure as you’re born.” Scarcely had this ter- 
rible prediction passed from her lips, when there 
came an awful bang against the neighboring 
fence, and a moment later the author of it ap- 
peared astride on top. Of course, it was Willie, 
the idol of his parents, and the terror of the 
neighborhood. Seated there, switch in hand, 
snipping off with a wanton air the heads of Mr. 
Grab’s flowers, he seemed to be the very incar- 
nation of an imp. Upon a dumpy, little body, 
supported by sturdy legs, sat a fat, round head, 
covered with a hirsute growth of Shakesperian 
hue. The bizarre impression, conveyed by the 
general contour of this physique, was still fur- 
ther enhanced by the lineaments of the face. 
These consisted of a thin-lipped mouth, above 
which stuck out impertinently a snub nose, 
flanked in turn by a pair of grayish eyes that 
seemed filled to the brim with mischief. 

Being an only child, Willie had not been 
reared in a manner calculated to make him a 
model of goodness; but rather the reverse. 
From babyhood up, whatever he had done his 
parents had always considered the acme of 
cleverness. In consequence, his genius for devil- 
try developed at an early age. In fact, hardly 
had he passed his second year, when his mis- 
chievous ingenuity began to create havoc among 
his immediate attendants. No matter how care- 
ful the nurse who had him in charge was, did 
she turn her back but a moment, Willie was 
certain to seize the opportunity, and fall out 


44 


Odd Types 


of his carriage. Then would he set up a howl 
as though every bone in his body had been 
broken, and would refuse to be pacified until 
once more within the walls of his own home. 
Again, if inadvertently those who looked after 
him left his milk bottle within reach, quick as 
thought he would seize it, and the very next 
instant it would lie on the sidewalk in fragments. 
These, and other similar tactics continued, with 
more or less virulence, until he had reached a 
period when he was able to toddle about, un- 
aided. Then, in default of any other method of 
torment, he would lisp to his mother such in- 
vented tales of ill treatment at the hands of his 
nurse, as for variety and wealth of detail cer- 
tainly surpassed the best efforts of Dante. Do 
what they would, the unfortunate girls who had 
him in charge, found that there was no other 
way to make him desist than by the offer of a 
bribe. Only with continual gifts of candy and 
play toys were they able to prevail upon him to 
refrain from indulging his impish imagination. 
This bribe-taking propensity became finally so 
pronounced that, had he been an adult, he would 
certanly have been mistaken for a holder of pub- 
lic office. 

And if any child ever showed marked quali- 
fications for a political career, Willie was that 
child. Why? For several reasons. If the 
reader asks, did Willie go to Sunday School, 
the veracious answer must be, he did not. True, 
his mother did once take him there; but on 
that occasion, his actions were such, that he was 
never compelled to go again. Did Willie never 


Odd Types 


45 


tell a lie? Hardly. It all depended on circum- 
stances. If the truth subserved his interests, 
he would cling to it, almost as tenaciously as to 
a falsehood. Did Willie, when he had an apple, 
always give the larger half to his companion? 
By no means. He generally managed to keep 
it all himself. Did Willie ever champion the 
cause of the weak against the strong? Not at 
all. In fact, whenever there was a fight among 
his comrades, Willie would stand off in the dis- 
tance, and wait until it w^as evident which one 
would be worsted; then he would sail in, and 
diplomatically assist the prospective victor to 
make the drubbing of his opponent more effec- 
tive. 

Nor were these the only characteristics of a 
statesman that Willie possessed. When it came 
to a question of playing the hypocrite, or fawn- 
ing, Willie proved almost as great an adept as 
his elders. These latter qualities, however, he 
brought onl}^ into play in those quarters where 
experience had taught him that the returns 
would be large. This was particularly so in 
the case of his aunt, Miranda. To her, he 
generally exhibited the angelic side of his char- 
acter — what there was of it. And his efforts in 
this direction never went unrewarded. When, 
therefore, on this particular morning, Willie 
heard his aunt calling him, he slipped to the 
ground in a trice, and wiping off his besmudged 
face as well as he could with his sleeve, ran 
toward her with an expression of countenance 
that was intended to betoken the most innocent, 
non-mercenary affection in the world. But, 


46 


Odd Types 


nevertheless, all the while that he approached 
her, his eyes followed minutely the movements 
of the hand that was fumbling in her purse. 

“Where have you been, you naughty child?’' 
asked his aunt, as she greeted him with a kiss. 

“Over in Mr. Grab’s garden,” replied Willie, 
shyly accepting the bright half-dollar that Mi- 
randa dropped into his hand. 

“What were you doing there?” asked Mi- 
randa, shaking her hand at him warningly. 

“Nothing,” answered Willie, putting his fin- 
ger in his mouth with an air of cherubic inno- 
cence. 

“Nothing?” queried his aunt, eyeing him 
askance. 

“Oh, Willie,” exclaimed Jane, horrified at his 
cold-blooded mendacity. 

“No. ma^am,” replied Willie, scowling at Jane. 

“It seems to me,” said his aunt, “that you were 
using your switch pretty lively.” 

“Oh,” replied Willie, “I was only trying to 
chase off the potato bugs, that’s all.” 

“But, don’t you know,” continued Miranda, 
“that you have no right at all in other people’s 
gardens?” Willie made no reply to this, but 
simply stared at his aunt in apparently guileless 
stupidity. “Now, you won’t go over there 
again, will you?” 

“No, ma’am,” replied Willie, casting his eyes 
to the ground, as though abashed. 

“That’s a good boy,” said Mranda. Then 
kissing him a second time with outward hearti- 
ness, but inward repugnance, she bade him 
good-bye, and descended the steps to her car- 


Odd Types 


47 


riage. Hardly had Miranda turned her back, 
when Willie, gliding up to Jane, whose whole 
attention, for the moment, was engrossed in the 
coachman, gave that unsuspecting female a ter- 
rific kick on the shins. ‘'There/' he cried ex- 
ultantly, as he scampered out of the way of her 
pursuing wrath, “Dat's for putting your mouth 
in.” 

As Miranda at this time was engaged in giv- 
ing directions to her coachman where to drive, 
she unfortunately missed this last exhibition of 
childish vengefulness on the part of her sweet, 
little nephew. But, as the carriage turned the 
corner, the last she saw of him, was Willie stand- 
ing in the middle of the street with his fingers 
to his nose, pointed in mocking derision at 
Jane. 

“Dear me,” murmured Miranda, “what a bad 
boy he is! I can't see what Joe, or Emma, can 
find in that child to admire. But I suppose, 
like all parents, they think their own the best.” 
And then her thoughts wandered off to the more 
pleasing subject of her prospective party. 

Meanwhile, Emma was in her husband's store, 
assisting him in palming off his last year's goods 
upon tffe guileless villagers as the newest fash- 
ions. She was just engaged in persuading a 
rich, old spinister to take a piece of figured silk 
that had lain in stock for years, on the plea that 
it was the latest importation, and was using upon 
her customer her most honeyed tones — as hon- 
eyed, at least, as her shrill voice would permit 
— when, on glancing out of the window, she saw 
Miranda's carriage draw up before the door. 


48 


Odd Types 


For a moment, the pang of jealousy that shot 
through her heart showed itself in her face, but 
realizing that a stranger was lookng at her, she 
quickly repressed it. 

'‘Well, have you decided?’’ asked Emma of 
the spinster, anxious now to be rid of her. 

“Yes. I’ll take the whole piece,” replied the 
latter. 

“Very well,” said Emma. And hastily packing 
up the goods, she managed to get the old lady 
out, just as Miranda was coming in. 

Of course she greeted Miranda very affection- 
ately, as though she really loved her. Then she 
called Joe, who immediately came forward and 
shook hands with his sister-in-law. As the two 
— husband and wife — stood side by side, they 
presented an odd contrast. Joe was portly and 
thick-set, with a face the chief feature of which 
was a heavy chin, and with a complexion as red 
as a beet; while Emma had a pallor that, in a 
woman, so often goes with an envious spirit, 
and a gauntness in face and figure that to a 
spectator always conveyed the impression of 
hunger. Of her features, the most striking were 
the Juvenalian nose and the large eyes, in which 
latter seemed constantly to burn that flamboy- 
ant fire so characteristic of the optics of a cat. 
Joe, after inquiring about Phil, was on the point 
of starting in on his favorite topic — bad busi- 
ness — when Miranda winked at Emma, intimat- 
ing that she wanted to see her privately. On the 
pretext that the rear of the store was more com- 
fortable, the two ladies retired in that direction, 
leaving Joe talking to himself, as he walked 


Odd Types 


49 

about arranging and rearranging the wares on 
his counters. 

As soon as they were comfortably seated, Mi- 
randa announced her intention of giving an en- 
tertainment to her intimate friends; and then, 
upon Emma’s startled query as to what Phil 
would do about it, informed the latter of her 
success of the previous evening. Upon Emma 
pressing her for details, Miranda proceeded to 
describe minutely the tactics she had pursued, 
at the same time according Emma her full meed 
of recognition as the author of them. After 
mutual congratulations on the result, the two 
plunged headlong into a discussion of what 
should be done to make the coming party 
memorable. 

They were still at it, hammer and tongs, or 
perhaps to be more correct, tongues, when Em- 
ma heard her name called. As they looked up 
to discover the cause of the disturbance, they 
saw in the front of the store, a short, spare man, 
with a visage like crumpled parchment, and eyes 
that resembled black beads, standing in front 
of Joe, and gesticulating wildly. 

“What is it?” asked Emma as she came for- 
ward, followed closely by Miranda. Then as she 
approached nearer, recognizing in the new- 
comer their neighbor, Adam Grab, she greeted 
him warmly. Miranda did likewise. Grab re- 
turned these greetings by holding out to each a 
thin, dry hand that seemed almost transparent. 

“What’s the trouble, Mr. Grab?” asked Emma. 

Grab hemmed, and hawed, for a moment, and 
then glanced pathetically at Joe. 


Odd Types 


SO 

''Oh,” said Joe, evidently aroused to activity 
by Grab’s appealing look, "Mr. Grab says Willie 
has been playing the mischief again in his gar- 
den.” 

"Again !” repeated Emma, rather sharply. "I 
didn’t know that the child had ever been in Mr. 
Grab’s garden before.” 

"Yes, he has,” interjected Grab, regaining his 
tongue as the memory of his wrongs crowded 
upon him, "many a time.” 

"You never informed us about it,” replied 
Emma, tartly. 

"No, I did not,” responded Grab. "I always 
thought I could catch the little ras-a-a-a-boy ; 
and give him a lick-a-a-a-talking to, myself. But 
I find to my sorrow, I can’t. So I’ve come to 
you as a last resort.” 

"Well,” queried Emma, her maternal feelings 
rising up in arms, "what has the poor child done 
that’s so terrible?” 

"I couldn’t begin to tell you,” replied Grab. 
"I wouldn’t say a word, if he confined himself 
to the potato plants, but when he begins to at- 
tack my beautiful flowers, I feel bound to call 
a halt.” 

"Oh, I see,” remarked Emma, sarcastically, 
"he has committed the grave crime of picking a 
few flowers.” 

"A few!” exclaimed Grab, frantically. "Al- 
most all!” 

"My goodness, Mr. Grab,” retorted Emma, 
"what a fuss you make over such a little thing!” 

"Aw little thing!” cried Grab. "My dear Mrs. 

Gloom, it isn’t a little thing. Some of those 


Odd Types 


SI 


flowers are very rare specimens, and have cost 
me as much trouble to find, as some of my cost- 
liest curios. And, Mrs. Gloom, you have no 
idea how much I dote on them.” 

‘'Oh, no doubt of that,” answered Emma, with 
asperity. “You old bachelors are all alike. 
You’re always in love with something that isn’t 
human. However, I’ll speak to Willie about it.” 

“Do you think that merely talking to him will 
do any good?” ventured Grab, timidly. 

“I certainly do,” instantly answered Emma, 
with emphasis. 

“Very well, I hope so,” responded Grab, ob- 
serving Emma’s rising wrath, and not daring to 
press the point further. Then bidding them all 
good-bye, he toed his way quietly out. 

“Why, did you ever hear the like!” exclaimed 
Emma, as soon as the door was closed, turn- 
ing toward Joe and Miranda. “Wants us to 
whip that poor child because he happened to 
pick a flower, or two. Well, if Mr. Grab thinks 
we’ll do any such thing, he’s mightily in error, 
I can tell you.” 

“You bet he is,” growled Joe. 

“I have seen vicious men before,” continued 
Emma, “but Mr. Grab certainly takes the prize. 
Of course, I can see through the whole thing, 
can’t you, Joe?” 

“Not exactly,” responded Joe, puckering his 
brow in his efforts to think. 

“It’s simple enough,” rejoined Emma. “He 
is one of those persons who positively hate the 
sight of a child. Probably, our Willie’s sweet 
disposition has aroused his resentment, and he 


52 


Odd Types 


thinks that by complaining to us, he can get re- 
venge on him. As a matter of fact, I don’t be- 
lieve Willie ever was in his garden.’' 

''Oh, yes, he was,” interposed Miranda. ‘T 
saw him there, myself.” 

‘‘You did? When?” queried Emma. 

“This very morning,” replied Miranda. 

“This very morning?” repeated Emma. “You 
saw Willie this very morning in Mr. Grab’s 
garden?” 

“Not in the garden, exactly, but on the 
fence.” 

“Oh, on the fence!” snapped Emma. “Well, 
on the fence isn’t in the garden, my dear. Of 
course,” she went on, vehemently, “some peo- 
ple, when they dislike a child, are always ready 
to help in putting him down. They ” 

“Why, Emma,” broke in Miranda, “you know 
very well that I simply adore Willie.” 

“That’s a queer way to show it, by taking Mr. 
Grab’s part,” retorted Emma, with a toss of the 
head. 

‘‘I’m not taking Mr. Grab’s part,” returned 
Miranda. 

“I’d like to know,” replied Emma, laughing 
ironically, “how else to call it.” 

“Oh, come, Emma, don’t get excited,” put in 
Joe, in his heavy voice. “I dare say, Miranda 
didn’t mean anything wrong.” 

“Not at all,” said Miranda, in an injured tone. 
“Why, Emma, I’m surprised that you should 
think that way of me.” 

“All right, all right,” responded Emma, biting 
her lips. Then, there was a moment’s silence, 


Odd Types 


S3 


Emma looking straight ahead of her with a 
frown on her face, Joe straightening some 
boxes, and Miranda glancing from one to the 
other in deep embarrassment. 

Finally, seeing that neither made a move to 
help matters along, Miranda stepped toward 
Emma, and taking her hand, said : 'T think I’ll 
go now. Good-bye.” 

Good-bye,” replied Emma, shortly. 

''Good-bye, Joe,” said Miranda, addressing 
her brother-in-law. 

"Good-bye,” responded Joe, in his usual deep 
bass. 

"Now, ril expect you both, without fail, on 
Tuesday night at the party,” said Miranda, as 
she reached the door. 

"Oh, we’ll be there,” answered Joe. 

"If we receive an invitation — that is,” added 
Emma. 

"Why, you don’t want me to send you a writ- 
ten invitation, do you?” asked Miranda. 

"Why not?” responded Emma. Then sar- 
castically added: "We’re as good as other peo- 
ple, even though we haven’t got so much 
money.” 

"Very well,” replied Miranda, beating a hasty 
retreat before this last shot, "I’ll see that you 
get one.” Then, after directing the coachman 
to drive her home, Miranda sank back in her 
seat, her gentle nature quite oppressed by the 
thought that she had inadvertently offended 
Emma. 

As the carriage started off, Emma turned tri- 
umphantly to her husband. 


54 


Odd Types 


'‘Well,” she said, "did you hear me give it to 
her?” 

"Yes,” answered Joe, indignantly, "and 
youVe made a nice mess of it, too.” Emma 
looked startled. 

"How?” she asked. 

"Why,” replied Joe, "you know very well, 
how dead in love with his wife Phil is, and what 
a big influence she has over him. His consent- 
ing to this party shows that. Now, suppose Mi- 
randa should tell him how youVe acted to her. 
What do you think would be the consequences? 
Likely as not, Phil wouldn’t let me have an- 
other cent, and really, with business as it is now, 
I’d simply have to go into bankruptcy.” 

"Oh, you’re talking nonsense,” said Emma. 

"No nonsense about it. I tell you, Emma, 
you had better make your peace with her, or 
it will be all up with us.” 

"Make my peace with her!” repeated Emma. 
"Not at all. She’ll be only too glad to make her 
peace with me.” 

"I don’t see it,” remarked Joe. 

"No?” queried Emma, smiling in a superior 
manner. "Well, then, let me show you. In the 
first place, it was I who first put into Miranda’s 
head the notion of having a party. I knew that 
whether Phil consented or not the mere re- 
quest would irritate him. And I also knew 
enough of Miranda to feel sure that, after the 
first party she would want more. This, sooner 
or later, is certain to lead to an estrangement 
between them/’ 


Odd Types 


55 

^'Suppose It does,” interposed Joe, ''how in 
the world will that help us?” 

"Only have a little patience and you’ll find 
out,” resumed Emma. "Now, you see, Miranda 
being at odds with Phil, and being in those years 
when a handsome face is still attractive, will be 
sure to seek consolation elsewhere.” 

"Oh, bosh !” cried Joe. "That’s one of your 
far-fetched stories again.” 

"Not far-fetched in the least,” responded Em- 
ma. "In fact,” she continued, "Fm not so cer- 
tain but that Miranda has already found such 
consolation.” Joe looked at his wife in doubt- 
ing astonishment. "That surprises you, don’t 
it? Well, it did me, too,” said Emma, "when I 
first discovered it. But I fear it’s true.” 

"Do I know the man?” asked Joe. 

"Of course you do,” said Emma. "It’s Mr. 
Felice.” 

"Charlie Felice?” Emma nodded. "Well,” 
commented Joe, "he’s capable of anything in 
that line.” 

"And it seems to me, he has made consider- 
able progress, too.” 

"You don’t say!” exclaimed Joe. 

"Yes,” rejoined Emma, "I’ve noticed that 
every time lately that he has called at Phil’s 
house, Miranda and he are always together. So, 
you see, the chances of a separation between 
Phil and his wife are not so remote as you 
thought.” 

"But how,” asked Joe, "will that be to our in- 
terest?” 

"Why,” answered E^ma, "if there is a sepa- 


56 


Odd Types 


ration, Phil, in all likelihood, we being the only 
living relatives he has, will leave his entire for- 
tune to us/’ 

'‘Oh, that’s the idea,” said Joe, closing his 
eyes a moment in deep deflection. Then, open- 
ing them again, he shook his head. 

"What’s the matter?” asked Emma. 

"You’re way off in your calculations,” re- 
sponded Joe. 

"Why?” 

"Because, whatever you may say, I don’t 
think Miranda is that kind of a woman.” 

"Oh,” sneered Emma, "too angelic, I sup- 
pose.” Joe made no reply. "Even so,” con- 
tinued Emma, "if they only quarrel, and I’ll see 
to it that they do quarrel, we’ll benefit by it.” 

"How?” 

"Why, by playing the peacemakers, and bring- 
ing them together again. In their gratefulness 
they won’t be able to do enough for us.” 

"It seems to me,” growled Joe, "we’ve already 
done sufficient to earn their gratitude by help- 
ing them to marry each other.” 

"There’s where you’re wrong,” responded 
Emma. "Past favors, like dead heroes, are gen- 
erally forgotten. But ” 

At this moment a customer entered, followed, 
at intervals by several more, and so the con- 
versation between husband and wife was per- 
force suspended, to be resumed at some other 
more opportune time. 


Odd Types 


57 


CHAPTER V. 

GATHERING OF THE TYPES. 

Far more than he had anticipated, Phil soon 
had reason to regret his weakness in having 
consented to Miranda's proposal. As has been 
seen, on the very next morning, after her suc- 
cessful cajolment of him into agreeing to the 
entertainment, Miranda's mind was already 
deeply wrapt up in the plans for its preparation. 
That day Phil saw little of his wife except at 
meals, and then she was abstracted and silent, 
answering him only in monosyllables, and hur- 
rying through the courses as though anxious to 
have done with them. The following day was 
much the same, M^’randa hardly taking the time 
even to bid him ‘‘Good morning." As the mo- 
mentous day set for the entertainment ap- 
proached, her preoccupation, instead of dimin- 
ishing, seemed to increase, until finally she ap- 
peared to have forgotten entirely the existence 
of her husband. This neglect cut Phil, who in 
that regard was as sentitive as a woman, to the 
very heart ; and though he said nothing, he 
showed his resentment by a growing irritation 
and moroseness. As a consequence, when on 
several occasions he and Miranda had need to 


S8 


Odd Types 


exchange remarks, the words of both were so 
sharp that each time they found themselves on 
the verge of a quarrel. Unluckily, just as their 
relations were in this rather strained condition, 
two evenings before the date fixed for the party, 
who should come in upon them but Felice. It 
needed only this to complete Phil’s discomfor- 
ture. When, therefore, Felice in his easy, cheerv 
manner greeted him, Phil responded with more 
than his customary brusqueness. Miranda, on 
the other hand, smiled graciously, and though 
she said nothing, the blush that mantled her 
cheeks, expressed more eloquently than words 
the pleasure she felt at his coming. 

Felice, with the freedom born of familiarity, 
at once proceeded to make himself at home ; and 
after having retired to the apartment he usually 
occupied when visiting the Glooms, to change 
his clothes, quickly rejoined Miranda and her 
husband in the dining room. A few moments 
afterwards they all sat down to dinner. At first, 
though he did not join in the conversation, Phil 
listened to Felice’s light, brilliant chatter with 
some degree of attention, but gradually he 
lapsed into a sombre silence that, to Miranda 
and Felice, was exceedingly depressing. They 
both would much rather have had him indulge 
in his usual tirades against society and the 
world than to see him in his present mood. Mi- 
randa, in order to conceal from Felice, as far 
as^ possible, her husband’s lack of sociability, 
plied the young man with numerous questions 
about New York, which, she remarked with 
grave ingenuousness, she had of late visaed so 


Odd Types 


59 


little, that it was, to her, almost like an undis- 
covered country. At this assertion Phil shot 
at his wife a searching glance; but, though he 
seemed to feel the covert thrust, he made no 
comment. The remainder of the meal passed 
without incident, and when it was finished all re- 
paired to the library. 

Here Miranda and her guest resumed their 
conversation, while Phil, leaning back in his 
chair, seemed lost in his own reflections. After 
a time, Felice, having exhausted all his raillery 
in attempting to arouse Phil, suggested that 
they have some music, and Miranda cheerfully 
assented. As she arose to go, noticing that her 
husband made no move to accompany them, she 
went over to him, and playfully pretending that 
she wanted an escort, asked him for his arm. 
To this request, Phil, with a moody air, replied 
rather rudely, that she was already supplied 
with one and certainly that ought to be sufficient. 
Upon this, Miranda, angered more at Phil's 
manner than at his words, drew herself up 
haughtily, and, disdaining any rejoinder, went 
to the door and passed out. Felice hung back. 

‘‘Oh, come on, old man," said he, at the same 
time hoping that Phil would refuse, “join us; 
the music will do you good." 

“Not now," answered Phil, doggedly. 

“Later?" asked Felice. 

“Perhaps," returned Phil, with a show of irri- 
tation. 

Seeing that Phil was anxious to be rid of him, 
Felice, with an amused smile on his lips, with- 
drew, and went downstairs to join Miranda. 


6o 


Odd Types 


As soon as Felice was gone, Phil took up a 
volume and started to read. He was thus en- 
gaged only a short time, when to his ears was 
wafted, in subdued tones, the voice of his wife, 
singing. Unconsciously, he laid down his book, 
and leaning back, began to listen. At first, his 
ears drank in the sounds rather listlessly; but 
by degrees, as song followed song, it seemed to 
him that there came into the rendition of them 
a note of fervor that he had never before heard 
there. This discovery not only disquieted him, 
but served still further to increase his already, to 
him, inexplicable resentment toward Miranda — 
a resentment that seemed to have growm much 
greater since the arrival of Felice. 

Though the latter had never done aught, to 
Phil's knowledge, to justify his suspicion or dis- 
trust, yet by some unknown process, Phil in- 
stinctively felt a presentiment that Felice would 
prove an evil influence on his destiny. Try as 
he would, he could not shake off this feeling, 
and to it must be attributed the reason for the 
discourteous manner in which he often treated 
him. Felice, however, refused to take Phil’s 
words, or moods, seriously; and the more sour 
and bitter the latter would become, the more 
jolly and gay would be Felice. Hence, feeling 
himself powerless to combat this incubus, Phil 
began to fear it. And this was the real cause 
that had made him so silent at dinner, and had 
afterward prompted his refusal to go to the 
music room. 

As the singing continued Phil could hardly 
contain himself, and had not pride stood in the 


Odd Types 


6i 


way he would certainly have gone downstairs 
and created a scene. But since that was out of 
the question, and in order to quiet himself, Phil 
again took up his book, and tried, by concen- 
trating his mind on its contents, to shut out all 
other thoughts. 

Meanwhile, below, Felice was playing his 
cards with consummate adroitness. Knowing 
by experience that nothing is sweeter to wo- 
man’s ears than flattery, he fed Miranda with a 
fulsome share of it. Her playing, he praised to 
the skies, and over her voice, went intq ecstacies. 
Nor did he stop there. Whenever he gave her 
a piece of music he managed to have his fingers 
touch hers, and tremble, as though with sup- 
pressed emotion. Then, as if the contact had 
occurred by accident, and he felt ashamed of the 
betrayal of his feelings, he would step quickly 
Away from her, and take his stand at the other 
side of the piano. By the time, however, that 
Miranda was halfway through a song, he would 
again have worked his way near to her, and 
leaning his head on his hand, would look into 
her eyes with an intense, enraptured expression, 
such as painters depict in the face of a poet when 
contemplating his muse. These tactics he re- 
peated, in the course of the evening, many times, 
and when, at length, they bade each other good- 
night, Miranda was already attracted toward 
him far more than strict propriety warranted or 
her better sense approved. 

As they reached their respective rooms the 
thoughts and moods of the two were decidedly 
diverse. Felice, believing that his conquest was 


62 


Odd Types 


already assured, chuckled with delight, and 
laughed audibly as he recalled the obvious guile- 
lessness of Miranda, and the various incidents 
of the comedy in which he had been playing so 
romantic a role. Not for a moment did it occur 
to him that there was anything serious in lead- 
ing a pure woman astray, and thus repaying the 
hospitality of a friend; or if it did, the thought 
was so vague as to awaken no serious consider- 
ation. So, resolving on the morrow, if circum- 
stances favored him, to make a bolder advance 
than any that had gone before, he lapsed softly 
into slumber, as though such a thing as a con- 
science had never come to his ken. 

On the other hand, Miranda at first felt de- 
pressed — even a bit remorseful — and ill at ease. 
When, however, she recalled the recent con- 
duct of her husband and reflected how little she 
deserved such unkind treatment, there arose 
within her a spirit of revolt that, sweeping all 
scruples away, strongly urged her forward on 
the destructive path she had already entered. 
Poor, unsophisticated soul! She thought that 
one wrong could only be rectified by another. 
And so, foolishly, she resolved to give her co- 
quetry full scope to disport itself, believing i*- 
the proper and effectual way to punish Phil for 
his unjust behavior towards her. Besides, this 
particular method of revenge had for her a spe- 
cial charm. Felice was not only handsome, but 
clever; and she knew that many women would 
envy her, her successful mastery over a man 
upon whom they, with all the added advantage 
of being unmarried, had been unable to make an 


Odd Types 


63 

impression. In her innocence she failed to con- 
sider the interpretation which would be put upon 
her actions by the world at large — that world, 
which is so prone to attribute evil to even the 
best of us. With the resolve, therefore, not only 
to continue her flirtation with Felice, but also 
not to speak to her husband again unless he first 
spoke to her, she, too, fell asleep. 

Phil, in the meantime, continued reading in 
the library — though do what he would, he could 
not for long keep his attention on his book. 
Finally he abandoned the effort altogether, and, 
giving his mind free rein, permitted it to wander 
at will. As was to be expected, it immediately 
busied itself with the incidents that had oc- 
curred that day; and in the end, after long re- 
flection and many waverings, brought Phil to 
the same resolve of foolish silence as had been 
adopted by Miranda. With this resolution, then, 
uppermost in his thoughts, Phil, reminded of 
the lateness of the hour by the clock striking 
twelve, retired for the night. 

The following morning he arose early, and, 
after a light breakfast, without a word to Mi- 
randa or making any inquiry about her, as had 
formerly been his custom, left the house. It was 
a full hour afterward before Miranda put in an 
appearance, followed at a short interval by Fe- 
lice. At a glance Miranda saw that Phil had 
already been there, and as the realization of his 
studied neglect rushed upon her, her heart be- 
came filled with bitterness. Instead of turning 
her from her course, as Phil had anticipated, it 
only served to strengthen her purpose to per- 


64 


Odd Types 


severe. She addressed herself, therefore, to Fe- 
lice in her most winning way, and made that in- 
dividual inwardly congratulate himself upon 
what he believed the result of his own resistless 
fascination. 

After having dawdled quite a length of time 
over their coffee, Miranda announced that she 
was going to ride into the village to make a few 
purchases and asked Felice whether he would 
accompany her. Felice replied that nothing 
would please him better. Accordingly, Miranda, 
having at his solicitation ordered the trap, so as 
to dispense with the services of the coachman, 
and enable Felice to do his own driving (at 
which request, Miranda, assuming as matronly 
an air as she could, playfully chided Felice for 
his boyishness), the two started out together in 
the highest spirits imaginable. Felice, in par- 
ticular, was in a happy vein, and whenever Mi- 
randa seemed about to lapse into earnestness, 
or to take other than a merry view of things, he 
would at once come to the rescue with some 
clever bit of worldly wisdom, that would for the 
moment drive all seriousness away. Time and 
again, during the ride, did he give utterance in 
various forms to his leading principle ''carpe 
diem,'' Nothing, he insisted, was of any use in 
the world unless it contributed to one's pleas- 
ures. And whenever opportunity arose for en- 
joyment, it was one's absolute duty immediately 
to seize it. “For," said he, “it will not do to 
wait for the morrow. By that time you may be 
dead, and unfortunately, we live but once." 

“Do you really think, though," asked Miran- 


Odd Types 65 

da, '^that it is proper to spend one’s life only in 
pursuit of pleasure?” 

""Certainly,” replied Felice. ""In fact, every- 
one is striving for that very thing; only most 
people are too hypocritical to acknowledge it” 

Miranda declared she did not agree with him, 
unless he meant by pleasure the sense of doing 
one’s duty. 

""Duty!” cried Felice. ""Pray, who can tell 
you what is your duty? Ask a dozen persons 
how to act under a certain set of circumstances 
and you will receive a dozen different replies. 
They will no riore agree than a dozen physicians 
diagnosing a malady, or a dozen lawyers dis- 
cussing a point of law.” 

""But how, then,” exclaimed Miranda, mysti- 
fied, ""can you tell what is proper, and what is 
not?” 

""I have no criterion,” answered Felice. ""Be- 
fore doing anything, I simply ask myself what 
the result will be: Pleasure or pain? If the 
former, I do it; if the latter, of course, I don’t 
do it.” 

""But suppose there are other consequences?” 
contended Miranda. 

""Then they must take care of themselves,” re- 
sponded Felice. ""If, before every act we per- 
form, we bothered our heads about all the con- 
sequences, the world would soon come to a 
standstill.” 

Though Miranda vigorously combatted these 
sentiments and other similar ones proclaimed by 
Felice, yet in her heart she was half inclined to 
believe them. And Felice, observing from her 


66 


Odd Types 


responses that his words had created in her mind 
a doubt as to what was right and what was 
wrong, felt for tne time well satisfied with his 
efforts. For he well knew from experience that 
no mind was more receptive of worldly sophistry 
than a skeptical one. During the rest of the 
drive, therefore, he continued to advance many 
other tenets, equally novel to Miranda, and 
which, if followed to a logical conclusion, were 
bound to destroy all sense of moral responsi- 
bility. 

Though fully three hours had passed before 
they returned to the house, and an hour more 
elapsed before they sat down to luncheon, still 
Phil failed to put in an appearance. In fact, he 
did not come back until shortly before dinner, 
and then he recognized his wife only by a nod, 
and answered Felice’s remarks with such ill- 
temper that even that calloused individual felt 
half inclined to take umbrage at it. 

That evening as Miranda and Felice sat in 
the reception room, Phil having retired to the 
library, Felice expressed, in a seemingly heart- 
felt manner, his regret that any differences had 
arisen between husband and wife; and added, 
that if his presence was in any way the cause of 
it, he would willingly withdraw. To this, as 
Felice had foreseen, Miranda would not agree. 
“My husband,” said she, “is merely out of hu- 
mor, because I’ve invited a few friends to spend 
the evening with me. That is all. He seems to 
look upon this as the commission of a crime. 
But,” added she, with compressed lips, “do what 
he will. I’m determined to carry out my plans. 


Odd Types 


67 


I will not put up any longer with the monoton- 
ous existence we have lived the last two years. 
Phil actually treats me like a child. I intend to 
show him that he’s mistaken, and that he has to 
deal with a woman.” 

'T see how it stands,” rejoined Felice, with 
a laugh. “It is much ado about nothing, and a 
little stubbornness on both sides. However, 
since you two are such dear friends of mine, I 
shall essay the dangerous role of peacemaker, 
and try to bring you together again. But, of 
course,” continued he, taking Miranda’s hand 
in his, and pressing it with feigned friendly 
warmth, “I cannot succeed without your co- 
operation. Will you give it?” 

“To prove that I am not stubborn,” repiled 
Miranda, with a smile, “I will — and that, un- 
conditionally.” 

“Good,” returned Felice. “I shall not exact 
any very great sacrifice. Only, to-morrow, when 
I am talking to Phil, and taking him to task for 
his actions if, as I mention your name, you will 
manage to come in, with a smiling countenance, 
you will help matters along wonderfully.” 

“And is that all that you shall require?” asked 
Miranda. 

“That is all.” 

“Well, then,” she returned, “if you fail, the 
failure will not be due to me.” 

The next morning Felice followed Phil into 
the library, and began in a jocose manner to 
rally him about his grave air and funereal face. 
“Why, man,” said he, “to look at you, one 
would think you had just buried, instead of mar- 


68 Odd Types 

ried, one of the most admirable women m the 
world/' 

''Hm," retorted Phil, sourly. “From that re- 
mark, it is evident that you are not a married 
man." 

“I would be," returned Felice, “if I were so 
fortunate as to find so charming a woman 

as " Here Miranda, with a smile on her face 

and looking most bewitching, appeared at the 
door. “Oh, well," resumed Felice, “it's unnec- 
cessary for me to say more. Use your eyes, and 
you can guess the rest." 

As Phil glanced up, Miranda with outstretched 
hand, came toward him. “Phil," said she, “Mr. 
Felice has been scolding me, and has claimed 
that I have not done right, and so I've come to 
you to make amends." 

“Very kind of Mr. Felice, I'm sure," remarked 
Phil, dryly, as he took the proffered hand. 
“Though I would have appreciated it more had 
the act not required outside influence to prompt 
it. However, I'm not vindictive, and shall try 
to forgive and forget." 

This was hardly the reception that Miranda 
had expected, and instantly her feelings became 
wrought up to a high degree. She was on the 
point of replying with some warmth, when Fe- 
lice, observing the threatened danger, threw 
himself into the breach, and with one of those 
happy expressions that were always at the end 
of his tongue, managed to carry both over the 
crisis in safety. However, though Phil and Mi- 
randa engaged in the general conversation that 
ensued, and during the rest of the day, under 


Odd Types 


69 


the watchful supervision of Felice, were quite 
amiable toward each other, they were no nearer 
real reconciliation than before. 

To the reflecting reader, perhaps, it has al- 
ready occurred to seek the incentive that so 
strongly urged Felice to bring man and wife 
together again. What the real motive was, 
would be hard to say. Whether he desired by 
this means to dissipate the distrust that he in- 
stinctively felt Phil was cherishing against him, 
or whether he thus^ intended to impress Miranda 
more forcibly with the amiability of his own 
character, is a problem that must remain for- 
ever unsolved. Whichever it was, Felice seemed 
highly pleased with the outcome ; and, when the 
guests began to arrive, proceeded to give vent 
to his exuberance of spirit by a rapid series of 
sallies of flashing wit. 

Among the first to come, as usual, were Em- 
ma, Joe, and their darling, Willie. Emma al- 
ways made it a point to be, if possible, before 
anyone else ; for then she had the advantage, not 
only of missing nothing, but of preventing oth- 
ers from gossiping about her, and possibly com- 
paring notes and thus discovering her duplicity. 
Phil, as was his wont, greeted them with a grunt, 
while Miranda and Felice extended a much 
warmer, if not as sincere, a welcome. This 
worthy couple had hardly ensconced themselves 
in a coign of vantage whence they could observe 
everything without being too conspicuous, and 
Willie had just taken out his penknife, prepara- 
tory to cutting his initials in the ‘ arm of the 
chair on which he was seated, when, of a sudden. 


70 


Odd Types 


there was heard outside a grating of wheels. At 
once every one in the room knew whose arrival 
this protended; or, if any doubt existed, it was 
soon dispelled by a succession of puffing 
wheezes that now became audible, and which 
evidently issued from some stout person at- 
ternpting to mount an incline. Amid these 
noises was interspersed, now and then, a fresh 
young voice, which in pleading tones seemed 
continually repeating an adomination that 
sounded very like : ‘‘Do suppress the cook, ma.*’ 

A few moments afterward there loomed up in 
the doorway, and slowly floated into the room, 
the wealthy widow, Mrs. Shoddy, having astern 
of her, her brilliant daughter, Minerva. 

In an instant Emma’s eyes travelled over both 
ladies from top to toe and detected in a twink- 
ling, what had been bought at her husband’s 
store, and what had been purchased elsewhere 
Mrs. Shoddy, though attired in a dress of the 
richest material that money could procure, had, 
unfortunately, a figure of such generous propor- 
tions and of such sameness of outline, that the 
efforts of the most skilful dressmakers were un- 
able to give it shape. Her hands, whose rough 
skin attested that at some time or other they had 
been no strangers to hard work, were weighted 
down with numerous rings of varied jewels, not 
so much for the sake of ornament, as to conceal 
their redness. But if her hands were red, her 
countenance can only be described as scarlet, and 
it glistened like burnished metal. Its expres- 
sion, however, was kindly, and no one would 
even then have guessed the lowliness of her 


Odd Types 


71 


origin, were it not for her hair. Of dark brown 
color, streaked with gray, it had evidently for 
many years strayed about her head at its own 
sweet will, and without restraint; for now, in 
spite of the efforts of hairdressers, and a profu- 
sion of hairpins, it continually burst its bonds, 
and obstinately straggled over her face in wisps 
of various lengths. The result was, that no mat- 
ter how the poor woman dressed, or what she 
wore, she always had the appearance of being 
frowsy. 

Her daughter, on the other hand, was a model 
of neatness. About eighteen years of age, of slim 
figure, and regular features, she combined in her 
manner, the freshness of youth, with the staid- 
ness of maturity. It is true, the sweetness of her 
face was somewhat tempered by an austerity of 
expression that often results from too deep a 
study of the classics, but none the less it was ex- 
ceedingly attractive. Minerva was highly edu- 
cated, and also had a quick wit ; but, like many of 
her sex similarly endowed, she placed too great 
a stress upon her acquirements ; and especially in ' 
the choice of her words, had become over-refined. 
In fact, as has already iDeen heretofore intimated, 
she was a little bit of a blue-stocking — a sort of 
modern edition of one of Moliere’s ''precieuses 
ridicules.’’ 

Only a few minutes had elapsed after the ar- 
rival of Minerva and her mother, and they had 
just divested themselves of their wraps and 
joined the others in the reception room, when 
Brief, Phil’s lawyer, and Mr. Daniel Demos, came 
upon the scene together. Brief was known to all. 


72 


Odd Types 


but Demos was acquainted only with Phil, Mi- 
randa and Felice. Accordingly, introductions 
were in order, and Felice, coming forward, did 
the honors of that onerous duty. Each time he 
mentioned the name, Felice was careful to add 
that Mr. Demos was not only a member of Con- 
gress, but one of our rising statesmen. The lat- 
ter certainly looked it. He was tall and squarely 
built, and had large, eloquent hands. He was 
dressed in the conventional dress of our public 
men — a narrow black necktie and a Prince Albert 
coat. The coat was buttoned at the lowest but- 
ton, thus forming a convenient resting place for 
the hand, when that member was not engaged 
elsewhere. The illusion of greatness begun by 
his clothes, was fully completed by his face. The 
stumpy nose, the dark blue eyes, the mouth, 
which was merely a slit with invisible lips, and 
the heavy, broad chin — all surmounted by long, 
black hair, worn in the Calhounian style — pre- 
sented, at least outwardly, the semblance of a 
great orator. And it was in oratory that 
Demos particularly prided hims not so much 
in the thought, as in the manner of delivery. To 
be sure, he had never in his life composed a 
speech himself. Why should he, when for a few 
hundred dollars there were numberless beggarly 
scribblers ready, and eager, to do it for him? 
Would it not be unreasonable to expect a man 
who, having left school at the age of fourteen, 
had from that time on spent his leisure hours 
standing at street corners, and who, from his 
twenty-first year, had been busily engaged it. 
corraling voters by fair means, or foul, day in 


Odd Types 


73 


and day out, and attending to the behests of the 
‘‘Boss,’’ and who more by sheer force of assur- 
ance than any other qualification had arisen to 
the position of a lawmaker at the National Cap- 
ital — would it not be unreasonable to expect a 
man of that calibre to waste his precious mo- 
ments in grammatical construction, or rhetorical 
periods? Of course it would, and that is what 
Daniel Demos thought. Hence, he had, at the 
very beginning of his political career, attached 
to himself an impecunious creature of brains — 
brains are always cheap and plentiful — to com- 
pose his speeches for him. Then, whenever op- 
portunity offered, he would rise dignifiedly in his 
place, and deliver the composition of his poverty- 
stricken henchman with as much fire and force as 
though it were all his own. In this way he had 
gained a wide reputation as an orator, and, like 
everything that is filched, it acquired in his eyes 
a greater value than if he had obtained it hon- 
estly. So infatuated, indeed, had he become 
with the beauties of his own elocutionary powers 
that he now constantly carried about with him 
the manuscript of at least one speech, which upon 
the slightest provocation he would take out of his 
pocket and deliver to whoever was polite, or 
weak enough to endure it. Of his ability as a 
parliamentarian, which, owing to his attendance 
at six sessions of Congress, was really great, he 
thought nothing at all. 

Now, at the time, when he received the invita- 
tion to attend Miranda’s party, he had just pur- 
chased an oratorical dissertation on the ‘‘Tariff,” 
and thinking that he might find some appreciative 


74 


Odd Types 


listener there, had brought it along with him. As 
it happened, the only chair vacant was next to 
Mrs. Shoddy, and observing that that lady was 
disengaged, Mr. Demos slowly and pompously 
settled into it. Without preliminaries, and with 
that easy familiarity generally exhibited by men 
bred in politics, he immediately opened a conver- 
sation with her. Mrs. Shoddy, delighted — in 
fact, almost confused — by this attention from so 
distinguished a luminary in the political world, 
responded, where response was required, as well 
as her limited conversational abilities permitted. 
Not many minutes elapsed, therefore, before Mr. 
Demos learned sufficient to satisfy him that he 
was talking to a woman blessed with a delight- 
ful abundance of this world’s goods. The mo- 
ment he made this discovery his efforts to dazzle 
the lady with his own greatness, redoubled, and 
before long he was conversing with her as con- 
fidentially as though he had known her all his 
life. 

Now, the general conversation had been in 
progress for some time, and Brief was just de- 
scribing, with considerable elaboration, to the 
admiring and attentive Minerva, his great foren- 
sic victory in a certain legal cause (which, it 
is probably unnecessary to add, was purely a 
legal fiction), and Joe, for about the hundredth 
time, was earnestly engaged in impressing upon 
Phil with Emma’s assistance, how hard he was 
laboring, and how poor, in spite of his efforts, 
business remained, and Felice was discussing 
with Miranda some detail of the coming enter- 
tainment, and Willie was just beginning to carve 


Odd Types 


75 


his second letter on the arm of his chair, and 
Demos was just on the point of taking out the 
manuscript of his ‘Tariff’' speech — when, sud- 
denly, all were electrified by the voice of Grab. 

At once, those who knew that gentleman, 
hastily examined their jewelry, to be certain, not 
only that it was well secured, but that it could 
by no possibility be mistaken for rare curios. 
Then, amid a deep silence, Grab, almost on tip- 
toe, as was his custom, came gliding into the 
room. The first to welcome him was Miranda, 
who smilingly passed him on to Felice, who, in 
turn, introduced him to Demos. 

The party now being complete, all were invited 
downstairs, where they were ushered into a room, 
tastefully decorated with flowers and plants, and 
were regaled with beautiful music, rendered by 
accomplished musicians. After two hours’ 
amusement there, they were led into the dining 
room, where a generous luncheon, composed of 
rare and tempting dishes, was spread before 
them. When every one had done justice to this 
really sumptuous feast, Miranda suggested that 
they go to the music room, and there finish the 
evening with a few melodies of their own ; but 
only some followed her suggestion. These were 
Emma, Felice, Mrs. Shoddy, Minerva, Brief and 
Demos. Phil went into the library, followed by 
Joe, who continued to din in his ears the hardness 
of his lot; while Grab wandered about, from 
room to room, examining the numerous knick- 
knacks and ornaments that were scattered around 
and occasionally stopping to make a vicious lunge 
at Willie, who was constantly annoying him by 


76 


Odd Types 


grabbing at his coattails. It was really shameful 
the way that boy worried poor Grab, for, if let 
alone, he was the most inoffensive being in the 
world. 

Having by dint of hard work accumulated a 
respectable competency, Grab had a few years 
before retired from active business, and having 
bought a little home, which he occupied all alone, 
proceeded to indulge his love for art by devoting 
his entire attention to the collection of antiques 
and the cultivation of rare flowers. In these two 
pursuits Grab's whole soul was bound up. He 
possessed no social qualifications whatsoever, and 
those not in the secret were at a loss to under- 
stand why Miranda had invited him. Emma, the 
only one who ventured a guess, believed it was 
merely a device of Miranda to play a joke on 
her guests, and get a chance to laugh at them. 
For, the only fault that Grab had — unfortunately 
it was a strongly developed one — was his pre- 
tended discovery of some valuable curio in al- 
most every piece of bric-a-brac, or jewelry, he 
laid his eyes on; and onoe he conceived this de- 
lusion, so persistent were his efforts, either to 
purchase it or borrow it for the purpose of hav- 
ing a duplicate made, that no person had yet been 
found who could successfully withstand him. Mi- 
randa, to be sure, knew of this trait, but it was 
by no means the reason that had induced her to 
invite him. If the truth must be told, it was an 
even less commendable one. 

Knowing that Joe and Emma would be highly 
offended if Willie were not included in the invi- 


Odd Types 


77 


taticn to his parents, and being also fully awake 
to the fact that if Willie found no occupation 
he woTild prove an intolerable nuisance to her 
guests and herself and probably spoil all their 
pleasure, and feeling convinced that Willie knew 
of no greater delight than that of annoying Grab, 
Miranda had coldly and deliberately inveigled 
that innocent creature into attending, for the sole 
purpose of using him as a foil for her mischiev- 
ous nephew. As the reader has seen, her calcu- 
lations did not go far astray. In fact, when 
shortly after midnight, Willie’s mother called 
to him to get ready for going home, the little 
rascal was so enchanted with his persecution of 
Grab that he strenuously objected, and could only 
be induced to obey by the bribe of a dollar from 
Miranda. 

On the other hand, Grab had become so angry 
and irritated at Willie, that when the Glooms 
left, though his way lay in the same direction as 
theirs, he hung back and delayed his departure 
until that of Mrs. Shoddy and her daughter. As 
they were descending the stairs together, Mrs. 
Shoddy, declaring that Mr. Grab ought not, so 
late at night, go on foot alone, generously offered 
him a place in her carriage — an offer which Grab 
with great delight accepted. 

Of the three remaining guests, Felice had al- 
ready arranged to remain at Phil’s house one 
more night ; but both Brief and Demos, though 
they inwardly recoiled at the prospect, expressed 
their intention of going to the hotel. Miranda, 
however, soon afterward reinforced by Phil, 


78 Odd Types 

pressed them so warmly to accept her, and her 
husband’s hospitality, that finally, with apparent 
reluctance but with real gratification, they ac- 
ceded to her request. 

Thus ended Miranda’s first party. 


Odd Types 


79 


CHAPTER VL 

THE CONSEQUENCES. 

With the departure, the next morning, of Brief, 
Felice and Demos, Phil believed that at last his 
martyrdom was ended, and that he was now 
again to enjoy his former tranquility without fur- 
ther interruption. For two weeks this was so; 
then there came a change. The first to fore- 
shadow it was Felice, who on the pretense that 
he had accidentally happened to be in the neigh- 
borhood, and could not refrain from giving his 
dear friends a call, suddenly dropped in on them. 
Though declaring that he had no time to spare, 
he easily allowed himself to be persuaded by Mi- 
randa, to tarry until the following evening, and 
much to Phil's annoyance, promised to return 
later for a longer stay. Then after an interval 
of a few days, just as Phil was congratulating 
himself that Felice's visit had been a false alarm 
(for the latter had been a frequent caller even 
before the entertainment), who should put in an 
appearance but Demos. He pretended that he 
was on his way to Albany to consult the leaders 
of his party, and really would have gone right 
through the town — an act which Phil would glad- 
ly have forgiven him — had he not been reminded, 


8o 


Odd Types 


by the recollection of their former kind hospital- 
ity, that it was his duty in passing to pay them 
his respects. 

On this flimsy pretext Demos contrived to 
while away, under Phil’s roof, two whole days 
— days of perfect torture to Phil, but of extreme 
delight to Demos, who in that short period adroit- 
ly managed to inflict on Phil and his wife, the 
larger portion of his great “Tariff” speech, and 
when finally he departed, had the satisfaction of 
feeling that this time at least his audience had 
been unable to elude him. 

At length, thought Phil, as he bid Demos a 
most hearty farewell, I am rid of them all. But 
again he was doomed to disappointment. Hardly 
had twenty-four hours elapsed since Demos re- 
moved his shadow from the doorway, when, of 
all mortals, who should glide over the threshold 
but Grab. At first glimpse of him Phil was too 
astonished to speak, but when finally he recov- 
ered the use of his tongue, he asked Grab rather 
sarcastically whether he, too, had come to in- 
quire the price of board. Grab, not comprehend- 
ing the drift of Phil’s satire, stoutly repudiated 
the intention of asking the price of anything. 
He merely wished, he said, to beseech Phil for 
the loan of a certain article of virtu, that on his 
former visit had struck his fancy, and of which 
he desired very much to have a copy made (and 
which, he might have added, he had not carried 
off before, because it had reposed in a glass cabi- 
net, safely secured under lock and key). Mi- 
randa shook her head violently, intimating to her 
husband to refuse the request ; but Phil, thirsting 


Odd Types 


8i 


for revenge on her, told Grab that he was wel- 
come, not only to take it, but to keep it as long 
as he saw fit. Upon this permission, Grab acted 
with alacrity, and having, with Phil's aid, 
wrapped the article up with great care, soon slid 
away with the priceless treasure under his arm. 
When he was gone Miranda turned upon her 
husband and angrily upbraided him for his reck- 
less disregard of her wishes. He knew, she said, 
that this particular piece had had an especial 
value for her by reason of former associations, 
and that a loan of it to Grab was equivalent to a 
gift. To these remarks, Phil retorted mockingly 
that if that were so he was sorry, but that for the 
loss, if loss there was, she had only herself to 
blame. Certainly it was not he, who had invited 
Grab to the house, and thus opened the way for 
him to engender an affection for their property. 
On the contrary, had she minded his advice, 
neither Grab nor others whom he could name, 
would ever have intruded on their privacy. He 
felt, however, since the evil was done, that it 
was worth the price of a knick-knack to get rid 
of at least one of the chattering crew. This twit 
at her recent social gathering immediately 
aroused Miranda's ire to the utmost, and she 
hotly replied that she wished Phil to understand 
once for all that she was no longer a child, and 
did not propose to be treated as one ; that she 
had a mind and a will of her own, and intended 
to exercise them. To be sure, if he wanted to be 
a recluse, there was none to hinder him; but as 
far as she was concerned, she would no longer 


82 


Odd Types 


be a party to it. She was tired of wearing her 
life away between four brick walls. 

Now, this response touched Phil on a tender 
spot, and in his anger, throwing prudence to the 
winds, he launched out, like most husbands in a 
similar situation, into a long tirade against the 
ungratefulness of women, following it up closely 
with the customary taunts about what his wife 
was before marriage, and what her probable fate 
would have been, had he not condescended to 
honor her with his name. Of course, being a 
woman, Miranda could not listen to such re- 
marks in silence. And so, one word gave rise 
tO another, and crimination followed crimination 
until finally Miranda, having exhausted her en- 
tire stock of language, swept majestically out of 
the room, leaving Phil to complete his utterances 
to empty air. 

That morning Phil had planned to take a run 
down to New York, with the purpose of con- 
sulting Brief on several matters of business ; but 
after such a linguistic battle as he had just been 
engaged in, he felt utterly unequal to the task. 
Knowing that he was rich enough to indulge in 
the luxury of having his lawyer call on him, in- 
stead of he calling on his lawyer, Phil wrote a 
letter to Brief requesting him to come up the 
next day. The mailing of this missive quite re- 
stored his equanimity, for he was really fond of 
Brief, and looked forward to the latter’s coming 
with pleasurable anticipation. And then — to put 
it quaintly — there passed another night and a 
day. 

The following afternoon, a half-hour before 


Odd Types 


83 


dinner, Brief arrived. He was cordially wel- 
comed by Miranda, and quietly greeted by Phil. 
But, though both engaged in conversation at the 
table. Brief soon observed that there was a cool- 
ness between them. Like the wise young man 
that he was, however, he pretended not to notice 
it, and talked on, as though he thought his host 
and hostess the most loving couple in the world. 
During the course of the meal Briefs remarks 
were generally answered by Miranda, Phil re- 
plying only once or twice, and then in mono- 
syllables. But afterward, when, Miranda hav- 
ing excused herself on the plea of household 
duties, Phil took Brief into the library, the for- 
mer’s tongue began to wag rapidly, and soon 
made up for past remissness. 

After conferring together upon individual af- 
fairs, the two launched out into matters of more 
general interest, and were just in the midst of a 
very interesting discussion upon the depravity of 
the world at large — a favorite subject, by the 
way, with Phil — when, to the latter’s dismay, the 
door opened, and Miranda ushered in Mrs. 
Shoddy and her daughter, Minerva. 

At a glance, Phil saw that his anticipated pleas- 
ure for the evening was over; and though he 
tried hard to conceal his anger, it showed itself 
clearly in his manner. To make amends, how- 
ever, for this disappointment, he resolved to in- 
vite Brief secretly to call again at the end of that 
very week, fondly believing, simple man, that 
a sense of propriety, if nothing else, would pre- 
vent the Shoddys from repeating their visit a sec- 
ond time within so short an interval. Accord- 


84 


Odd Types 


ingly, after an evening, exceedingly tedious to 
Phil, who spoke very little, fairly enjoyable to 
Mrs. Shoddy and Miranda, who talked of the 
fashions, and extremely delightful to Minerva 
and Brief, who seemed very much interested in 
each other, they took their departure. Phil man- 
aged, as Brief passed into the hallway, to whisper 
in his ear to be sure to come up on Friday. Brief 
nodded assent, and left. 

The two evenings that intervened, to Phil’s 
deep gratification, were not marred by calls from 
anyone. And when Friday arrived. Brief, who 
above everything else, possessed the virtue of 
punctuality, once more presented himself at the 
appointed hour, before his client’s door. Again 
Miranda, Phil and Brief, over the viands, in- 
dulged in pleasing discourse. Again, Phil 
dragged Brief off to the library with the fond ex- 
pectation of congenial communings, and again 
Miranda absented herself on the plausible pre- 
text of some wifely task undone, and pressing for 
completion. Again, the two men entered into an 
argument over the world’s baseness, and again 
were in the very climateric of the subject, when 
again — the pen almost trembles as it traces the 
words — the door swung suddenly ajar, and dis- 
closed to Phil’s wondering eyes, Minerva and her 
mother, preceded by Miranda. This second in- 
terruption so nettled Phil that he hardly took the 
trouble to return their salutations. With a sigh 
of despair, he sank back in his seat, in utter dis- 
gust at the untoward circumstances that seemed, 
of late, to be piling upon him. Not for a mo- 
ment did he suspect that this second visit was 


Odd Types 


85 


other than a mere coincidence. Had he known 
otherwise, the evening would probably have 
passed even less pleasantly than it did. As it 
was, Phil made it disagreeable enough for all 
concerned. Beginning with veiled irony, he rap- 
idly advanced to sarcasms — sarcasms so biting, 
especially against Mrs. Shoddy, as to elicit from 
that lady some very spirited replies. But opposi- 
tion seemed only to provoke Phil to further ef- 
forts, and finally his reflections became so pointed 
that the poor woman, rising, started for the door, 
and would certainly have left, had not Miranda, 
with her usual tact and diplomacy, placed her- 
self in the breach, and begged the irate widow 
not to take offense at what her husband said, 
since, as she knew, he often spoke thoughtlessly. 
This explanation on the part of Miranda drew 
Phibs fire at once upon her own head, and pre- 
cipitated, between them, a war of words which, 
to everyone's discomfort, continued, with occa- 
sional short truces, during the rest of the even- 
ing. At length, after several false starts, the 
visitors broke away under the initiative of Brief, 
who, fearing that he might be drawn into the do- 
mestic tempest if he stayed, excused his decli- 
nation of Phil's invitation to remain over night, 
by claiming that a very important matter re- 
quired his attention in New York, early the next 
morning. 

Though thereafter Phil often invited Brief to 
partake of his hospitality, and took care to keep 
his coming a secret, even from Miranda, yet in 
every instance, the Shoddys in some unaccount- 
able way seemed to scent the young man's pres- 


86 


Odd Types 


ence, and never failed, when he was there, to put 
in an appearance. Finally, discouraged by re- 
peated failures, Phil ceased to summon Brief, 
and whenever he wished to talk with him, went 
himself to New York instead. 

Though Briefs visits were thus for a time 
stopped, Phil continued as far from enjoying un- 
interrupted quietude as ever. If he had calcu- 
lated that the young lawyer’s absence would put 
an end to the visitations of the Shoddys, he soon 
found himself gravely in error. In fact, they 
now came even oftener than before ; and for this 
there was a very strong reason. To put it in few 
words, the attraction had shifted from the daugh- 
ter to the mother, and from Brief to Demos. The 
latter gentleman, from visits three and four weeks 
apart, gradually shortened the intervals until, ere 
long, he was running, in the frequency of his 
calls, a close second to Felice. Nor was this all. 
Even Grab, who had not heretofore been cele- 
brated for his social proclivities, seemed all at 
once unable to resist the secret charm that hov- 
ered over Phil’s abode, and favored the inmates 
with his company, as often as three and four 
times a month. 

To each of them Miranda was the same charm- 
ing hostess that she had always been. In fact, 
this constant bustle of people coming and going 
just suited her to a tittle, arid she seemed to 
thrive on it like an irifant on mother’s milk. To 
Phil, however, it was bitter gall and wormwood, 
and bid fair to transform him into a confirmed 
misanthrope. At first, he voiced his dissent 
merely in murmurs; and then, finding that the 


Odd Types 


87 


evil still continued unabated, he passed to loud 
protests; and lastly, discovering these also to be 
in vain, he proceeded to remonstrances. But Mi- 
randa, in whom time had wrought a great change, 
was no longer the submissive creature of for- 
mer years; and so, murmurs, protests and re- 
monstrances, alike went unheeded. When Phil 
found himself thus wholly ignored, he resorted 
to the use of the only weapon left to him — frank- 
ness. 

For a time, this new method of warfare bore 
results, and on one occasion, nearly succeeded in 
causing Mrs. Shoddy and Demos to leave the 
house in bitter anger. But here again Miranda 
interposed her diplomatic talents and wrested 
the victory from him, assuring her guests that 
her husband’s remarks were merely an awkward 
attempt on his part to perpetrate a joke, and that 
he could not be complimentary, even if he would. 
Strange as it may seem, everyone accepted this 
explanation as the truth, and after that, no mat- 
ter how personal were his allusions, or how fierce 
his wordy onslaughts, no one paid any more at- 
tention to them than though they were the 
grumblings of a child. 

Meantime, the breach between Miranda and 
Phil grew wider. Yet, paradoxical as it may 
appear, the love that they bore each other, if any- 
thing, increased. Often, when after a quarrel a 
reconciliation took place between them, they 
were, while it lasted, even more loverlike than be- 
fore. These estrangements seemed, as it were, 
for the first time to disclose to them, the real 
depth of their mutual attachment; but pride. 


88 


Odd Types 


standing in the way, prevented either from ac- 
knowledging it. Phil, if he had not perversely 
shut his eyes to the truth, would have had to 
admit that he was now even more enamored of 
his wife than during the days of their honeymoon ; 
and Miranda, if the affection she had for her 
husband was not love, nevertheless felt, deep 
down in her heart, a regard for him that was 
almost its twin. 

But, unfortunately, their bickerings began to 
occur more and more frequently, and to grow 
more and more difficult of adjustment. Of this 
unhappy state of affairs, two persons — Felice 
and Emma — were quick to take advantage. The 
former was now in Phil’s house almost con- 
stantly, and whenever he found Miranda alone, 
which was not seldom, became, in his addresses, 
perceptibly more ardent. Miranda, in her dis- 
traught condition, not repelling, and sometimes 
in her resentment, even encouraging him, gave 
Felice the impression that his attentions were 
not distasteful. The moment he felt convinced 
of this, Felice grew bolder, and finally, believing 
that the time had arrived for a master-stroke, 
ventured to write her a letter — a letter, teeming 
with expressions that approached dangerously 
near the border line of passion ; but yet so subtly 
worded, that only those acquainted with all the 
circumstances, could put upon it an interpreta- 
tion other than innocent. Unconscious though 
Miranda was of evil, the receipt and perusal of 
this epistle seemed suddenly to awaken her to a 
realization of the view Felice put upon their 
friendship, and to the danger of inviting his inti- 


Odd Types 


89 


macy. Her first impulse was to go to her hus- 
band and ask him what to do; but, upon a mo- 
ment’s reflection, she saw it was impossible. That 
very morning, unhappily, they had had another 
serious wrangle, ^nd she feared that in his pres- 
ent state of mind, Phil might make out of this 
molehill of an incident, a mountain. In her per- 
plexity, therefore, she turned to the only other 
confidante she had — Emma. 

The latter, when Miranda had read her the let- 
ter, and explained the incidents in detail that led 
up to it, inwardly rejoiced. Here was the oppor- 
tunity she had been waiting for, to repay her 
brother-in-law for his recent neglect. For, of 
late, Phil, probably too deeply engaged in his 
own affairs to think of others, had been exceed- 
ingly remiss in responding to his brother’s appli- 
cations for aid. So, when Miranda had com- 
pleted her tale of woe, and having expressed her 
indignation at Felice’s presumption, asked her 
sister-in-law what course it were best to pursue, 
Emma, instead of appearing grave and shocked, 
as Miranda had expected, began to laugh, and 
said she saw nothing very serious in the matter 
at all. She made light of the letter, saying it 
was probably not meant in earnest, and was no 
doubt only a bit of drollery on the part of Felice. 
However, if Miranda felt that by remaining 
silent Felice would be prompted to repeat the 
performance, it was her opinion that a repetition 
could be prevented by waiting until she had 
Felice alone, and then intimating to him that an- 
other such communication would forfeit her 
friendship forever. Emma, however, especially 


90 


Odd Types 


warned her sister-in-law not to say anything 
about it to Phil ; for, she argued, he was of such 
a perverse nature that, under the circumstances, 
there was no telling what he would do. Miranda, 
though she had a feeling that this counsel was 
not the best, nevertheless entertained so high a 
regard for her sister-in-law's wisdom that she 
determined to abide by it. Accordingly, upon 
her return home, she put Felice's letter, for safe- 
keeping, into the teakwood box that stood on the 
mantel of the reception room, intending, when 
he next called, to return it to him, together with 
so severe a reprimand as would discourage for- 
ever another transgression of the same kind. 

A few days afterwards, therefore when Felice, 
in the fond belief that his effusion had clinched 
his hold on her, came to reap the reward of his 
efforts, the reception she accorded him almost 
made him doubt his senses. Instead of meeting 
him with a gracious smile, as had been her wont, 
she received his advances with exceeding cold- 
ness, and in a way that showed that she was 
deeply offended. At this unexpected change of 
conduct, Felice was nonplussed, and in his con- 
ceit never thought for a moment of attributing, 
to his letter, the cause. When they were alone, 
however, Miranda quickly enlightened him, and 
taking him severely to task about it, threatened 
that if he ever attempted to address her again in 
a similar manner, she would not only inform her 
husband, but would thereafter cease to admit him 
among the circle of her friends. At first, Felice 
was mute with surprise ; but recovering in a few 
moments his self-possession, he expressed his 


Odd Types 


91 


sorrow that Miranda should regard as a breach of 
propriety what he had intended merely as a token 
of his sincere admiration for her — an admiration, 
which, as he flatteringly put it, was the most pro- 
found feeling he had ever experienced. He was 
pained, he said, to see Miranda so ready to mis- 
interpret his actions, and to think so ill of him, as 
to believe he would ever do anything in the least 
disrespectful to her. Rather, he exclaimed ( with 
an appearance of sincerity that would have done 
credit to the greatest of actors), would he lose 
life itself, than have her, for one instant, harbor 
such a mean opinion of him. In this strain, and 
with increasing vehemence, Felice continued for 
some time, and pleaded so prettily that, before 
long, he had not only convinced Miranda that 
her view of his conduct had been wrong, but 
that her estimate of his character had been hasty, 
and not well founded. So, upon his promise, in 
the future, to be more discreet, as he laughingly 
termed it, Miranda agreed to receive him again 
into her good graces. During the rest of the 
evening, Felice was a model of repression, and 
when he finally took his departure, Miranda bid 
him good night as graciously as of yore. 

If Miranda, however, believed that her wifely 
honor was now safe, she was sadly deluded. On 
the contrary, the very fact of her resistance only 
made Felice the more eager to pursue, and the 
more determined to conquer. It was the old 
story of the hunted fawn over again. Her de- 
fiance merely added zest to the chase. And, as 
every sportsman knows, the more elusive the 
game, the more delightful the hunt. 


92 


Odd Types 


Felice, of course, saw that the correspondence 
which had served him so well in other cases was 
in this instance a mistake, and consequently, not 
out of regard for Miranda but on account of its 
inexpediency, decided upon its abandonment. 

While all this was passing under his very nose, 
Phil, dejected, ill at ease, and drawn into himself, 
in consequence of his misunderstandings with his 
wife, saw absolutely nothing, and with his eyes 
wide open, walked about like a blind man. 
Though living under the same roof, and eating 
at the same table, Miranda and he were, to each 
other, almost like strangers. True, they some- 
times spoke together, but it was generally upon 
topics connected with the household, and then 
the conversation was exceedingly short. If, by 
chance, they happened to stray to another sub- 
ject, it was not long before a disputation would 
arise, which after the usual criminations and re- 
criminations would conclude, with an indignant 
“Madam!'' on one side, and a haughty “Sir!" 
on the other. 

Now, there were days when Miranda, wearied 
of the strife, felt strongly inclined to go to Phil 
and surrender; but instead of following up this 
generous impulse, she would invariably delay, 
and would end by summoning her carriage and 
paying a visit to her sister-in-law. Emma, of 
course, would soon talk her out of her good reso- 
lution, and by the time Miranda arrived home 
again, she would be in a temper more irrecon- 
cilable than ever. 

This condition of affairs continued for some 
weeks, when one day at luncheon, there took 


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93 


place the most serious altercation that yet had oc- 
curred between them. It was brought on by Mi- 
randa, who, having just returned from Emma, 
and acting under her instructions, announced her 
intention of giving another party. Hardly had 
the words left her lips, when Phil, giving vent 
to his long suppressed indignation, burst out into 
a fierce torrent of reproaches. As usual, Mi- 
randa retorted tauntingly, and very soon both 
reached a point where sarcasms were bandied 
back and forth without forethought, and regard- 
less of consequences. It terminated by Phil rush- 
ing from the house, and taking the train to New 
York; while Miranda, quivering with agitation, 
ordered her coach, and had herself driven to the 
home of her, whom she thought her best friend, 
but who, false as most friends, was using her 
for her own ends — Emma. 


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CHAPTER VII. 

DITTO. 

You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. 
This, like the majority of aphorisms, is in the 
main untrue. For if you study the lives of per- 
sons who have achieved distinction, whether in 
the ordinary vocations, or in the higher pro- 
fessions, you will find that the greater number 
of them came from most undistinguished ances- 
tors. And yet, as they rose, step by step, they 
adapted themselves so readily to the various 
gradations of fortune that, when they reached 
the higher spheres, they moved in them as prop- 
erly as though to the manner born. To be sure, 
there are people, whose natures are so inflexible 
that no matter how extreme the change of cir- 
cumstances, they always remain the same. But 
these will usually be found to be such as are un- 
ambitious to improve, or too dull, or indolent to 
try. 

Though Mrs. Shoddy belonged to the latter 
class, her lack of progress was not due to dull- 
ness, or indolence. She was, in fact, a woman 
of energy, and possessed to the full that acute 
cunning so commonly characteristic of unim- 
proved minds. Being imbued, however, with 


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95 


the silly notion, so prevalent among people who 
have risen from poverty to affluence, that what 
was good enough when she was poor, was equally 
good enough when she became rich, she made 
little or no effort to conform her manners to her 
newly assumed station, and thus, after her rise to 
wealth, remained as goodnatured, plain and un- 
grammatical as she had always been. 

Mrs. Shoddy was of very humble origin. Her 
mother had been a washerwoman, and her father 
a bricklayer. Her youth had been passed in an 
atmosphere where the only mirth was the coarse 
jests of liquor-sodden brains, and the only di- 
version from monotonous labor the beatings ad- 
ministered by her father to his better half. At 
the age of twelve, she lost her mother who, 
struck down by the hand, not of her husband, but 
of grim Death, took silent flight to that unknown 
bourne, where the smell of soap-suds has prob- 
ably never been known. Her remaining progen- 
itor, overwhelmed with grief at his loss, and in 
the vain hope of drowning the memory of it, re- 
sumed, with greater assiduity than ever, his fond 
communings with the spirits. In this course he 
persisted uninterruptedly for four years, when 
he, too, in a state of exaltation, managed to 
shuffle off this mortal coil; or, to put it more 
plainly, in a fit of delirum, hanged himself. 

Being sixteen years of age, and without money, 
the poor, young orphan found only two ways 
open to her to obtain a livelihood. The one path 
presented a prospect of hard travail and little 
compensation ; the other, a merry life, but a short 
one. She nobly chose the former ; and taking the 


96 


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first opportunity that offered, accepted a situa- 
tion as a nurse-maid. Here she luckily fell in 
with an adept at cookery, from whom, by dint of 
close application, and also because she had a 
natural aptitude for it, she quickly acquired a 
thorough knowledge of all that art’s intricacies. 
As soon as she felt assured of her proficiency, she 
migrated to another household, and there, after 
a short period of probation, was duly elevated to 
the position of cook. 

It was while in this latter place, that chance 
brought her under the direct observation of Mr. 
Shoddy, himself an uncouth, but a rich man. 
His riches, as related by Mr. Shoddy, were due 
solely to his own talents ; but, as narrated by his 
former acquaintances, were founded purely on 
dumb luck. Whichever was right, the fact re- 
mained that he was the possessor of great wealth, 
and it was not inherited wealth, either. 

It seemed, that in the early days of California, 
Mr. Shoddy, like many of his compeers, had 
wandered without a penny in his pocket, west- 
ward, and in the course of his wanderings, had 
stumbled across a gold mine of exceeding rich- 
ness. Immediately he conceived the brilliant 
idea of working it; and, after that, money be- 
coming very plentiful with him, his estimation 
of his own merits rose correspondingly. He re- 
mained at the mines for some years, when sud- 
denly the yearning to return ‘‘home,” as the 
East was then termed, came irresistibly upon 
him. Disposing, therefore, of his holdings at a 
sacrifice, he turned his face toward New York, 
and with an eager heart began his journey 


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97 


thither. Arrived at his destination, he invested 
his snug little fortune of some half a million or 
so, in various good interest-bearing securities, 
and having ample to supply his wants, made 
preparations to live leisurely on the income. For 
quite a long period this arrangement perfectly 
contented him ; but gradually life in the city, with 
its bustle and its noise, somehow began to pall 
on him, and conceiving a longing for the coun- 
try, he again, as he expressed it, ‘'pulled up 
stakes,” and moved to the little town, which shall 
be nameless, but which is known to the reader 
as the birth-place of the Glooms. Here, having 
purchased a large, roomy house, he installed him- 
self therein with the full expectation of spending 
there the remainder of his days in blissful bach- 
elorhood. But at this point, fate, with kindly in- 
tent, intervened, and taking a hand in the game, 
brought to his notice the future Mrs. Shoddy. 

The manner of their first meeting was prosai- 
cal in the extreme. It happened in this wise. 
One day, while dining with one of his friends, in 
whose kitchen she was the presiding genius, Mr. 
Shoddy was particularly taken with a certain 
dish which she had prepared, and praised it quite 
warmly. His host, more in a spirit of raillery 
than anything else, thereupon insisted upon in- 
troducing him to its author, and, though Mr. 
Shoddy begged him not to, had her called, forth- 
with. Much against her will, she responded, 
and with a face, exceedingly red, due either to 
the heat of the kitchen fire, or her own embar- 
rassment, she stood by the door in silent expect- 
ancy. When, however, after an introduction ri- 


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diculously grandiloquent, her master, from dilat- 
ing upon her culinary attainments, was proceed- 
ing to depict the delight one of her creations had 
afforded Mr. Shoddy’s palate, the poor girl, per- 
ceiving that she had been summoned merely to 
be made the butt of a joke, confused and angry, 
turned about and fled precipitately. At this ex- 
hibition of what he supposed was shyness, Mr. 
Shoddy’s host, who prided himself on being a 
gentleman, laughed immoderately; but in this 
he was not joined by his guest. The latter hap- 
pened to be one of those rare parvenus who, in 
spite of their rise in life, still retain some regard 
for the feelings of those whom circumstances 
have placed under them. Hence, instead of en- 
tering into the merriment of his host, Mr. Shoddy 
remained perfectly grave. Observing this, and 
not wishing to give offence, his friend dropped 
his epicurean theme, and led the conversation into 
other channels. 

But the appearance of the cook somehow 
seemed to have wrought in Mr. Shoddy a great 
change, and though the subjects about which 
they conversed were far from weighty, his face, 
when he departed, was as serious as though he 
had just come out of a church. All the way 
home, the image of the cook flitted before his 
eyes, and all that night stood mirrored in his 
dreams. The next day, and the next day, at 
every unoccupied moment, the recollection of her, 
in spite of all his efforts to forget, persistently 
recurred to his mind. Finally, wearied with the 
struggle and believing that the ideal could only 
be destroyed by the real, Mr. Shoddy called again 


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99 


on his friend, and plumply proposed to take the 
cook off his hands — a proposition to which the 
latter cheerfully agreed, with the proviso that 
the person chiefly interested did not object. On 
this score, Mr. Shoddy had not the shadow of a 
fear; for he rightly guessed that so thoughtless 
an employer, as her present one, could awaken 
in his servants little attachment to himself. Ac- 
cordingly, going to her without delay, and ex- 
plaining the situation, he concluded with a pro- 
posal to hire her as his housekeeper. 

Now, the future Mrs. Shoddy, albeit she ap- 
peared so unsophisticated, had not been idle in 
the meantime. Having been impressed by her 
future husband, as much as he had been with her, 
she had taken especial pains to learn something 
of his antecedents and position, and to her de- 
light had ascertained that he was exceedingly 
rich. Therefore, when Mr. Shoddy came to her 
and made his offer, she closed with him at once, 
and the very next day set out in his company, en 
route for her future possessions. 

It did not take the future wife very long to 
make herself perfectly at home ; and before many 
weeks had passed, she had the gratification of ob- 
serving that the excellence of her cooking was 
having its effect. From taking only an occa- 
sional meal at the house, Mr. Shoddy advanced to 
taking two, and then three, and finally all that 
were set before him. Thus, by virtue of her tal- 
ent in the preparation of eatables, she crept by 
degrees into his stomach; and from there to his 
heart, as in most men, was a short road. Then, 
too, her shyness and strict attention to duty won 

LOfCi 


lOO 


Odd Types 


Mr. Shoddy’s highest regard, and served, as she 
had fondly hoped, to egg him on to that sweet 
culmination for which she was so anxiously wait- 
ing. At length, after many intimations on his 
part, and coquettish evasions on hers, the mo- 
mentous words were spoken, and they became 
man and wife. 

Of course, the mothers of his acquaintance who 
had lavished untold sums upon the education of 
their daughters, in order to fit them for their, as 
they believed, predestined careers, as the wives 
of rich men — to qualify for which, the girls had 
been taught how to pose in the parlor, sneer or 
spit fire, at all underlings, simper at silly inani- 
ties, and perhaps pound the piano, or perchance 
take lessons in the art of embroidery or paintings, 
the handiwork of the teachers of which latter 
two, the innocent young pupils often paraded be- 
fore their friends as their own — to repeat, 
the mothers of such daughters were deeply 
chagrined when they learned how Mr. Shoddy 
had thrown himself away, as they ex- 
pressed it, upon an unrefined, ignorant cook. 
They could not comprehend it. To be 
sure, no one expected that they would. How 
was it possible for women, in whom had 
been instilled from childhood the idea that matri- 
mony was only a matter of money, that unselfish 
affection for one of the opposite sex was a weak- 
ness, and who, at eighteen or twenty, had in ex- 
change for a handsome dowry, clasped to their 
bosoms some rotten rake about whom the only 
thing respectable was a family name, and the 
contact with whose putrid carcass filled his wife’s 


Odd Types 


loi 


life with misery — how could such creatures con- 
ceive of the bliss of love — true love, which, after 
all, is nothing but the apotheosis of healthy pas- 
sion. Impossible! Therefore, from their point 
of view, they were right. 

But Mr. Shoddy, from his point of view, was 
also right. He had spent his existence in hard 
labor, and had had no opportunity, like the gilded 
youth born to leisure, to waste and wither his 
powerful manhood in vicious frivolity. Then, 
too, he had had sufficient experience in the ways 
of the world to be able to distinguish the false 
from the true. Can any one blame him for hav- 
ing preferred the pure gold, unrefined though it 
was, to the dross, no matter how highly polished ? 
What though the woman of his choice had none 
of the accomplishments necessary to enable her 
to shine in the social world? What did he care 
for society? As he often told himself, if he 
wished to hear singing, he could, for a few dol- 
lars, go to the opera and regale himself with 
voices, the finest on earth. If he felt a longing 
for other music, he could easily secure it — with 
money. If his tastes ran in the way of art, there 
were tons of it to be had — for money. If he 
yearned for the interchange of beautiful thoughts 
or the society of great minds, he could easily pur- 
chase the most celebrated children of their brains 
— with money. And lastly, if he really wished, 
with his wife, to enter the charmed circle of se- 
lect society, he knew that he could do so, with- 
out difficulty, with the same sesame — money. In 
fine, there was hardly anything on this sublunary 
sphere that could not be procured with money — 


102 


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except the actual, tender and unalloyed affection 
of a guileless heart. So It came to pass that — 
not being compelled, by reason of inability to 
earn a living, to marry for wealth in order to 
save himself from starvation — he selected as 
his partner for life, a simple and unpretentious 
menial. He believed that he had chosen wisely, 
and the sequel seemed to prove it. 

In spite of the secret envy and ill-will of their 
neighbors and friends, the couple lived together 
in unbroken happiness which, at the end of a 
year, was still further increased by the birth of a 
daughter. As a forecast of what they intended 
to do with her, if she lived, they named her Mi- 
nerva. When the child reached the age of six, 
her father engaged for her the most expensive 
private tutors that he could find, and started her 
with a rush along the high road of knowledge. 
Minerva, as her parents had expected, showed 
herself from the beginning to be a precocious 
child, and by the time her sixteenth year had 
rolled by, had become a prodigy of learning. 

At this point, however, occurred an event that 
upset entirely all their plans for the future. This 
was the sudden demise of Mr. Shoddy. 

At first, both wife and daughter were so com- 
pletely overwhelmed with grief that they took 
no thought of themselves, or their surroundings. 
In fact, some weeks passed before either hit upon 
the idea of ascertaining whether or not Mr. 
Shoddy had made a will, or what really was the 
actual condition of affairs in which he had left 
them. Then they began to overhaul his effects, 
and after considerable searching, came upon a 


Odd Types 


103 


memorandum m Mr. Shoddy’s handwriting, 
which stated that in the event of his death, notice 
should be sent at once to his attorney, James 
Brief, of New York City. 

At this time, neither of them knew Brief, nor, 
indeed, had ever heard of him, except that Mi- 
nerva recollected her father having mentioned 
the name, once or twice, while in conversation 
with Phil Gloom. Accordingly, at Minerva’s 
suggestion, they both called upon Mr. Gloom 
and obtained from him Brief’s address. Then 
they journeyed to New York, and having steered 
a pretty straight course, came to anchor in Brief’s 
office, which at that time consisted of a single, 
dingy, little room, furnished in very meagre 
style. 

As soon as Mrs. Shoddy had shown her mani- 
fest, and made herself known to him. Brief 
brought out of his safe (which, by the way, had 
not yet been wholly paid for), a piece of parch- 
ment, the length of ordinary foolscap, which, he 
explained, was Mr. Shoddy’s will. At the re- 
quest of the widow, he proceeded to read it. The 
document was an extremely short one, and di- 
rected the division of the estate into two equal 
parts, one-half of which was to go to the de- 
cedent’s widow, and the other half to his daugh- 
ter. As the estate consisted entirely of stocks 
and bonds, a list of which Mr. Shoddy had de- 
livered to his wife a short time before his death, 
Mr. Brief advised them — with a frankness that 
showed how inexperienced in his profession he 
still was — that the division directed by the will, 
could be made very readily without any assist- 


104 


Odd Types 


ance on his part. At the instance, however, of 
Minerva, who from the moment she had laid eyes 
on the young attorney, felt drawn towards him, 
Mrs. Shoddy stated that she preferred to have 
his aid in the matter, and having asked for ref- 
erences, as though she were about to hire a coach- 
man, or a butler, patronizingly informed Brief, 
that if, upon inquiry, she found everything satis- 
factory, both she and her daughter would en- 
trust all their business affairs in his hands, and 
if he performed his duties well, would pay him 
handsomely. At this magnanimous proposal. 
Brief concealing his delight as best he could, re- 
plied that though he was head over ears in work, 
yet for the sake of his deceased client, rather 
than from any expectation of pecuniary recom- 
pense, he was ready to devote whatever of his 
valuable time would be required, to the service 
of their interests. Mrs. Shoddy thanked him, 
and in response to his questions, proceeded to 
give him such information as she possessed about 
the nature and extent of her late husband’s estate. 
Thai, after an interview of some half hour’s du- 
ration, during which she had so admirably 
guarded her language that Minerva had found 
occasion only three times to say ‘‘Do suppress the 
cook, ma,” she bid him good-bye, and promising 
that he would hear from her in the course of the 
following week, with her daughter departed. 

Two days later. Brief was thrown into a fit of 
ecstacy by the receipt of a letter from the widow, 
announcing her retainer of him as attorney for 
her daughter and herself, and stating that they 
would on him again very soon, m order to 


Odd Types 105 

place m his charge the late Mr. Shoddy^s various 
securities. 

Mrs. Shoddy proved true to her word, and 
from that time on came to Brief’s office fre- 
quently, on every occasion, moreover, accompan- 
ied by her daughter. In this way, the constrained 
acquaintanceship between Brief and Minerva 
gradually resolved itself into easy familiarity, 
and before long began to glow with the warmth 
of increasing mutual attachment. 

Minerva loved the dignified young lawyer with 
all the ardor that a temperament so classically 
trained as hers was capable of ; and Brief, aware 
of the size of her fortune, did not find great diffi- 
culty in persuading himself that he was just as 
deeply enamoured of her. 

At first, in order to see as much of her lover 
as possible, Minerva constantly devised plans 
with which to entrap her mother into calling on 
him, and was so successful as to catch a glimpse 
of him at least once a week. During this time, 
Mrs. Shoddy, unaware of the real state of affairs, 
was very complacent, and fell in with her daugh- 
ter’s suggestions without opposition. 

But one day, while the two were talking to- 
gether at random, Minerva chanced to let slip a 
remark that aroused at once her mother’s sus- 
picions. Happening to come upon the subject 
of Brief, Minerva suddenly became very ani- 
mated, and gave it as her opinion that she did not 
think they had been as courteous to him as their 
relations together demanded. 

‘Tn what way?” inquired her mother, pushing 


io6 Odd Types 

back her refractory hair, and looking up sur- 
prisedly. 

‘‘Why,’^ returned Minerva, trying to appear 
unconcerned, ‘‘we have not invited Mr. Brief, 
even once, to call.’’ 

“Why should we?” queried her mother, in a 
dry tone, at the same time watching her daughter 
narrowly. 

“Because,” answered Minerva, with a deep 
blush, “it would not only be an act of common 
politeness, but I really think he expects it.” 

“Hm! indeed!” commented Mrs. Shoddy, 
sharply. “Well, if he does. Nervy” — Nervy was 
Mrs. Shoddy’s pet abbreviation of Minerva — “all 
I have to say is, that he’ll be disappointed. I 
know them lawyers,” she continued, not noticing 
her daughter’s aspect of astonishment, ‘‘if you 
offer ’em a slice of bread, they immediately want 
the whole loaf.” 

“Oh, do suppress the cook, ma!” interposed 
Minerva, pettishly. 

“Why,” went on Mrs. Shoddy, disregarding 
her daughter’s interruption, “I actually believe 
if I were silly enough to invite him, he’d have the 
impudence to think I wanted him as a son-in-law, 
which I certainly don’t.” 

“Oh, there are many inferior to him in the 
world, I can assure you,” interjected Minerva, 
haughtily. 

“That’s not the question,” rejoined her mother. 
“He is well enough in his way — maybe — but, 
with all that, he’s no match for you. A girl with 
your money must look higher.” 

“Higher?” repeated Minerva, arching her eye- 


Odd Types 


107 


brows. “Pray, what do you mean by that, ma?'’ 

‘‘What do I mean? Why, that a young lady 
in your circumstances, ought to catch a general, 
or a colonel, at the least.’' 

‘‘Oh, I see,” exclaimed Minerva, sarcastically. 
'‘You wish me to wed a man of war. Dear me ! 
What a brilliant future! Why, it is positively 
entrancing! I suppose these military gentlemen 
carry on their wooing as they do their warfare. 
First, I presume, there is a skirmish of compli- 
ments, in which each tests the other’s strength. 
Then, after a short lull, follows, from a distance, 
a heavy cannonading of tragic avowals of affec- 
tion, and after that, if the maiden’s heart still 
holds out, there comes a quick charge, arms in 
hand, up to the very walls of the besieged town. 
Why, how very fascinating!” and Minerva be- 
gan to laugh derisively. 

“You may laugh. Nervy,” said Mrs. Shoddy, 
somewhat disconcerted by her daughter’s ridicule, 
“but I mean it.” 

“In that case, then,” returned Minerva, becom- 
ing immediately earnest again, “I fear that I 
shall always remain single.” 

“Well, as you please. Nervy. But remember,” 
and here Mrs. Shoddy’s face turned from red to 
purple, “you shan’t marry that lawyer.” 

To this, Minerva made no reply, and soon 
afterward, on the pretense that she had a head- 
ache, retired to her own room. Here, as she 
pondered over her mother’s suddenly developed 
hostility to her lover, and the ways and means 
of communicating it to him, her heart sank down 
in despair. The only method that suggested it- 


io8 Odd Types 

self was a letter, but this she at once repudiated 
as unmaidenly and unbecoming. Brief and she 
had not as yet reached that stage of love's game 
where the participants bombard each other with 
epistolary correspondence, and she feared that 
if she tried it, he might be impressed with the 
idea that she was too forward. For the time be- 
ing, therefore, she resolved to let matters drift 
along in their own way, believing that something 
would soon happen which would furnish the op- 
portunity she was wishing for. 

But days passed, and weeks sped by, and still 
nothing occurred. Meanwhile, whenever she in- 
timated to her mother the necessity of going to 
New York to ascertain how their interests were 
progressing, the latter would always frown, and 
say that there was no reason for being in such a 
hurry. For a full month, therefore, she neither 
saw nor heard of Brief ; nor he, of her. 

In the fifth week, however, just as Minerva 
was giving up all expectations of ever again be- 
holding her legal lover, or loving lawyer, as you 
please, an incident occurred, which furnished her 
with a faint glimmer of hope. This was the re- 
ceipt of the invitation to Mrs. Phil Gloom's party. 
Knowing that Brief was Phil Gloom's legal ad- 
viser, she thought it very likely that he had been 
included in the list of the guests, and therefore 
determined, if possible, to induce her mother to 
attend. Having found, however, from past ex- 
perience that a display of eagerness on her part 
would be certain to excite her mother's suspic- 
ions, and lead to a refusal, she set about to at- 
tain her object by an exactly opposite course of 


Odd Types 


109 


behavior. Accordingly, when her mother, who 
had been out to pay a call, returned, Minerva, as- 
suming a very indifferent air, carelessly handed 
her Miranda’s letter, and remarked that she could 
not understand how the Glooms, who had been 
far from considerate neighbors, had all at once 
come to think so much of them. 

'T’m sure, I don’t know, Nervy,” returned Mrs. 
Shoddy, as she waved away some hair that be- 
gan to straggle over her face. ‘‘Shall we go?” 

“Go!” exclaimed Minerva, as though shocked. 
“Why, ma, what can you be thinking of?” 

“But here’s the invitation,” answered her 
mother, as she succeeded in putting a recalcitrant, 
stray wisp behind her right ear. 

“Even so,” returned Minerva. “It seems to 
me hardly the proper thing to accept the invita- 
tion of persons with whom one has little more 
than a nodding acquaintance.” 

“Oh, bosh, child. You mustn’t be so squeam- 
ish, especially in this case. The Glooms, from 
what I have heard, are very well to do, and I 
don’t believe it’ll harm us any to know them bet- 
ter. Besides, I’ll have a chance to wear my new 
dress. What do you think ? Shall we go ?” 

“If you insist,” rejoined Minerva, in a voice 
rendered weak by the palpitation of her anxious 
heart, “to be sure, there is nothing further to be 
said.” 

Mrs. Shoddy did insist ; and with apparent re- 
luctance, but with secret delight, Minerva sent 
an acceptance. 

The reader already knows how Minerva and 
her mother duly put in an appearance at Miran- 


110 


Odd Types 


da’s party, and how Mrs. Shoddy formed the ac- 
quaintance of Mr. Demos. What the reader 
does not know are the mournful reproaches that 
Brief whispered into Minerva’s ear regarding 
her recent, unaccountable silence, and Minerva’s 
doleful explanation thereof. When Minerva had 
completed her revelations. Brief for some time 
remained absolutely mute, apparently deeply en- 
grossed in inventing a method of solution. Pres- 
ently, owing to Mr. Demos’s appropriation of 
Mrs. Shoddy’s entire attention. Brief, finding an 
opportunity to speak to Minerva without obser- 
vation, leaned over and whispered: ‘T have it.” 

'‘Good ! How ?” returned that estimable young 
lady, hardly moving her lips, and staring before 
her, as if she were looking into vacancy. 

"Hire a private letter-box,” muttered Brief, at 
the same time following Minerva’s example, and 
pretending to be busy with his own thoughts. 

"Will you write first?” inquired Minerva, in 
the same undertone as before. 

"Yes,” responded Brief in a hardly audible 
voice, "if I can get the number of the box. Will 
you send it?” 

Minerva gave a nod, and was about to con- 
tinue the colloquy, when Mrs. Shoddy, turning 
towards her, brought her to the attention of Mr. 
Demos, who thereafter divided his remarks be- 
tween the daughter and the mother. Though 
both she and Brief made several attempts during 
the remainder of the evening to exchange a few 
more words with each other, they were unsuc- 
cessful, and at parting, could only express their 
farewells through the medium of ardent glances. 


Odd Types 


iiii 


The next day, Minerva, unobserved by her 
mother, slipped around to the post-office, rented 
a box, and writing the number of it on a bit of 
paper, mailed it to Brief. When she returned 
home, she found her mother seated in the dining 
room, attired in a red tea gown, but sunk in a 
brown study, apparently totally unaware of her 
presence. 

'‘A penny for your thoughts, ma,’’ remarked 
Minerva, suddenly. 

Mrs. Shoddy looked up and smiled. 

‘They’re worth a great deal more than that, 
Nervy.” 

“Really? I am charmed to hear you say so,” 
returned Minerva. “Is there any objection to mv 
sharing them?” 

“Why, no, Nervy,” replied her mother, “not in 
the least. But you must promise that you ain’t 
going to laugh at me, when I tell you what they 
are.” 

“I trust, ma,” answered Minerva, sedately, 
“that I understand my filial duties more thor- 
oughly than to indulge in unseemly cachinna- 
tions at the expense of a respected parent.” 

“Gracious, child,” exclaimed Mrs. Shoddy, “do 
leave off them long words. They ain’t natural. 
They positively frighten me.” 

“They ought not to, ma,” rejoined Minerva 
with a smile. “However, since they do, I shall 
try to confine myself to plain language. To come 
to the point, then, as the colloquial expression 
is, what were those expensive thoughts about, 
which you just now promised to divulge to me?” 

“Why,” began Mrs. Shoddy, hesitatingly, “I 


II2 


Odd Types 


was — just — trying — to — Oh, Nervy,” she ex- 
claimed, breaking off and simpering like a maid 
of seventeen, ‘T'm afraid, if I tell, you’ll think 
your old mother is getting silly.” 

‘‘Not at all, ma,” rejoined Minerva, wondering 
what revelation her mother was about to make. 

‘‘Well, then,” continued Mrs. Shoddy, the 
color of her face growing a shade deeper, “I was 
just thinking of — Mr. Demos.” 

In an instant, Minerva comprehended how the 
land lay. In order, however, to draw her mother 
out, she resolved to feign obtuseness. 

“Mr. Demos?” said she, slowly, as though try- 
ing to refresh her memory. “Who is that, ma?” 

“Why, don’t you remember?” observed her 
mother. “The gentleman who was so attentive 
to me last night.” ' 

“Oh,” exclaimed Minerva, as though the recol- 
lection of him had just come back to her, “you 
refer to that conceited, old ” 

“Nervy!” interrupted her mother, warningly. 

“Well, he is old !” retorted Minerva. 

“Not much older than me,” observed her moth- 
er. “And as for being conceited, no one can 
blame him for that. I tell you, there ain’t many 
men now, his equal. Nervy.” 

“Why, ma, how can you judge? You only 
conversed with him an hour or two.” 

“Oh, I could see it right away, Nervy. The 
moment he opened his mouth I felt I was in the 
presence of a great man.” 

“Or a great humbug!” rejoined her daughter. 

“It’s plain, you’re not much taken with him,” 
said Mrs. Shoddy, visibly disappointed. 


Odd Types 


113 


'T cannot say that I am, ma.” 

‘‘Well, then,’’ rejoined Mrs. Shoddy, “let’s > 
drop him like a hot potato,” and closed her lips 
tight. 

“There goes the cook again !” commented Mi- 
nerva, irritably. 

Though usually this rebuke on the part of her 
daughter evoked from Mrs. Shoddy a reply, she 
allowed it this time to pass unnoticed, and pro- 
ceeded to look out of the window in silence. Mi- 
nerva, perceiving this, and feeling intuitively that 
her mother had but half unbosomed herself, 
rather regretted her ill-advised haste in express- 
ing her predilections. She made several attempts, 
therefore, to induce her to renew the conversa- 
tion, but they, all of them, proved ineffectual. 
Finding at length that for this afternoon at least, 
there was no further hope of a continuance of 
her mother’s confidences, and wishing to be alone 
so that she could gloat, unobserved, over the suc- 
cessful commencement of her secret communica- 
tions with Brief, she hied herself to her own 
room, and locking the door, wandered off into 
those beautiful, rose-colored daydreams that 
maidens for the first time in love so often in- 
dulge in. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Shoddy continued to gaze out 
at the blue sky, abstractedly. What her feelings 
were, is hard to say. That they were not very 
cheerful, required only one glance ^t her face to 
show. In truth, her sensations were a conglom- 
erate mass of chagrin, anger, and depression. 
And no wonder. At one breath, the poor woman 
had seen her pretty vision of a second maritcil 


Odd Types 


1 14 

alliance fall to the ground like a house of cards. 
When, during that afternoon, she had pictured 
to herself how after the first visit, Mr. Demos 
would gradually increase the frequency of his 
calls, how Minerva would by degrees become ac- 
customed to his presence in their home, and how 
at last he would respectfully offer to fill the place 
of the late husband and father, it had never for 
a moment occurred to her to anticipate opposi- 
tion from her daughter. Minerva’s antagonism 
had burst on her like lightning out of a clear sky, 
and had seared and shriveled her blossoming 
prospects like a hot iron. 

But with all that, Mrs. Shoddy did not wholly 
relinquish hope of ultimate success. In fact, the 
only effect upon her plans, of this untoward in- 
cident, was a change in her contemplated manner 
of procedure. Instead of inviting Mr. Demos to 
the house, under the cloak of an entertainment 
to be given to her friends, as she had intended, 
Mrs. Shoddy now resolved to ascertain the places 
which Demos was accustomed to frequent, and 
then to devise sorne means of gaining admission 
there herself. In this way, she figured that De- 
mos would, after a time, express a wish to call 
upon her in her own home, and then she could 
delicately hint to him that before doing so, it 
would be advisable to pacify Minerva, and re- 
move from the latter’s mind her prejudice against 
him. That Demos was capable of accomplishing 
this, Mrs. Shoddy had not a moment’s doubt. 

These being her plans, her next care was, 
whither to go to gain information of Demos’s 
habits. After some little thought, it suddenly 


Odd Types 


115 

occurred to her that she had heard Brief often 
refer to the numerous times that Demos came to 
him to obtain data and facts for his various con- 
gressional debates. Since that was so, she right- 
ly concluded that the most likely place in the 
world to meet Demos, or learn of his wherabouts 
would be at the lawyer^s office. She determined, 
therefore, as soon as she could with decency do 
so, to resume again her weekly calls on Brief. 

Meanwhile, that young gentleman and her 
daughter had by no means been idle. After the 
first interchange of letters between them, their 
correspondence had so increased in volume and 
frequency, that finally not a single day passed 
without a letter from Brief to Minerva, or from 
Alinerva to Brief. It was in this way that the 
former always had previous knowledge of her 
lover’s impending visit to Phil Gloom, and by 
pretending to believe that she had seen Demos 
entering the Gloom’s gateway, had invariably en- 
trapped her mother into going there. When Phil 
Gloom at length ceased to summon Brief, and 
Demos began to put in an appearance, Mrs. 
Shoddy, who now spent many hours at her front 
window, would frequently discover that gentle- 
man passing by, and knowing his destination, 
would incontinently drag Minerva off to the 
Glooms, pretending that Miranda was such a 
lovable person that one never could get enough 
of her sweet society. 

Matters were going on thus swimmingly, when 
all at once, without apparent cause. Demos 
stopped coming ; and two weeks passed without a 
word from him. Fearing lest something serious 


ii6 Odd Types 

had happened, Mrs. Shoddy, unable to repress 
her anxiety, made up her mind to run down to 
New York, and, if possible, discover the reason 
for this untoward state of affairs. 

Accordingly, that evening, as she and her 
daughter were sitting in the drawing room, each 
busy with her own thoughts, Mrs. Shoddy, sud- 
denly looking up, said : 

''We’ll have to go to New York to-morrow. 
Nervy, without fail.” 

"What!” exclaimed her daughter, scarcely be- 
lieving the evidence of her own ears. 

"Yes,” continued her mother, "much as I dis- 
like the idea, I see there ain’t no other way out 
of it.” 

"There, ma,” observed Minerva, with a very 
innocent air, "what did I tell you? I knew you 
would be unable to procure that cloth up here.” 

"Oh, that ain’t what I’m going for,” rejoined 
Mrs. Shoddy, "though I suppose, while we’re in 
the city, we can do a little shopping, too. I’ve 
got to go down there on business.” 

"To the bank?” inquired Minerva, in a charm- 
ingly guileless way. 

"To the bank,” repeated Mrs. Shoddy, dis- 
gustedly. "Now, Nervy, don’t try to deceive 
your mother in that way. You know as well as I 
do, whom I’ve got to see when I go to New York 
on business. There’s only one man down there 
who attends to my affairs, and that’s Mr. Brief.” 

"Oh, true,” remarked Minerva, pretending to 
be indifferent, "I had almost forgotten him.” 

Mrs. Shoddy looked at her daughter incredu- 
lously. 


Odd Types 


117 

^Well,” she retorted, after a moment^s pause, 
'"if you really have, Fm glad to hear it. But if 
you haven’t, Nervy — why — all I’ve got to say 
is, if I find you’re trying to throw pepper in my 
eyes ” « 

‘‘Oh, do suppress the cook, ma,” interjected 
Minerva. 

“Why,” concluded Mrs. Shoddy, unmindful 
of the interruption, “before I get through with 
you, a lobster in hot water will be happy in com- 
parison — mind that!” And then, rising impres- 
sively, she left the room. 

The next day, which happened to be the same 
day that Phil and Miranda had had their most 
violent quarrel, and Phil had rushed off to New 
York, Minerva and her mother also set out town- 
ward. 


ii8 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER VIII. 

BRIEF AND HIS SATELLITE. 

Since James Brief, attorney at law, has already 
been mentioned a number of times in these pages, 
and is destined to appear again frequently before 
this narrative is concluded, it may perhaps be 
well to pause here a moment and give a short 
sketch of his past life, his present position, and 
his future prospects. 

To begin with, he was born in the famed city 
of Boston. His parents were humble and in- 
dustrious, and in fairly good circumstances. 
Though not a sturdy child, he passed through 
the usual succession of infantile ailments in ex- 
cellent shape, and emerged from the experience 
very satisfactorily. At the age of four, he moved 
with his elders to New York, which, from then 
on, was destined to become his permanent home. 
Here, he was in due time sent to public school, 
where he proved himself an apt and brilliant 
scholar. From public school he passed in turn 
through high school and college, and at the age 
of twenty-one, found himself at length con- 
fronted with the momentous question of adopt- 
ing a calling. 

Brief, even at that early period, had a wise 


Odd Types 119 

head on his shoulders, and in that head a pair o£ 
observing eyes. He noticed that though min- 
isters in the pulpit railed fiercely at the worship 
of Mammon, and men in public life prated 
loudly about honor, yet all of them, without ex- 
ception, when money was in sight, stretched out 
their lean fingers hungrily after it, and fought 
with desperation to get the despised article into 
their possession. In choosing a vocation, there- 
fore, he concluded to select one which, while well 
within his powers, would at the same time afford 
a prospect of the largest pecuniary returns. To 
be certain of reaching a proper decision, how- 
ever, and not making a misstep, he called into 
consultation his parents, and with them can- 
vassed the situation repeatedly — often, it must be 
confessed, arriving at a quandary that seemed 
insolvable. 

In collecting data of the earning capacity of 
the various occupations, he found to his surprise 
that he must accord pugilism the first place. 
Next to the fistic art, he discovered that, for 
quick accumulation of wealth, jockey ism was a 
close second. But owing, unfortunately, to his 
lack of the physical characteristics required by 
these two professions, he decided with consider- 
able reluctance to follow that of the law. To 
this determination he was largely urged by his 
parents, who believed that because he had a pro- 
lific tongue, he must perforce become a dis- 
tinguished lawyer. 

Accordingly, Brief entered the law school, ap- 
plied himself assiduously to his studies, and three 
years afterwards received his diploma as an 


120 


Odd Types 


L.L.B. At about the same time, he also gained 
admission to the bar. While still a student, he 
had, by offering his services free of charge, ob- 
tained leave to occupy a chair in the offices of 
a prominent law firm ; and upon the further con- 
dition that he would annoy no one with questions, 
and would pay strict attention to such duties as 
were assigned to him, he was also given an op- 
portunity of familiarising himself with the in- 
tricacies of legal procedure. Hence, when he 
started out for himself, being versed in both the 
theoretical and practical sides of his profession, 
there was only one thing lacking to make him a 
real practitioner, and that was — clients. 

Unaware that the last qualification was indeed 
the most difficult of all. Brief, with the heedless- 
ness of youth, selected a small office in a down- 
town building, and recklessly bound himself to 
pay therefor a monthly rental of ten dollars. 
Big with hope, he indulged in the further extrav- 
agance of fine stationery, a rolltop desk, and three 
chairs, purchasing the furniture, however, on 
the installment plan. Then, having attended to 
the lettering on the door of the words, ‘‘Law Of- 
fices,'' with his name underneath, he leaned back 
in his revolving chair and, with his breast swell- 
ing with the new pride of proprietorship, awaited 
developments. 

But one week passed, and two weeks passed, 
and three weeks passed, and yet no footsteps ex- 
cept those of his own creditors, stopped to tarry 
at his threshold. Brief began to get nervous. 
“This won’t do,” he muttered, oppressed with 
the knowledge that in another week, another 


Odd Types 


121 


month’s rent would be due. ‘‘I must make money 
very shortly, or I’ll be foundered. Father, I 
know, is unable to help me.” (It may be added 
parenthetically that Brief’s father had already 
incurred more obligations that he would be able 
to meet in three years, in order to bring his son 
thus far on the road to forensic distinction; and 
Brief, aware of this fact, nobly resolved to strain 
his fond parent’s resources no further.) “It’s 
strange,” continued Brief, resuming his soliloquy, 
“that none of my relatives, or friends, have yet 
found occasion to call for my services. I cer- 
tainly mailed every one of them an announce- 
ment. Oh, well,” he sighed, after a pause, as he 
took a package of cards from one of the drawers 
of the desk, and placed it in his pocket, “it’s the 
old case, I suppose, of Mahomet and the moun- 
tain. Since they won’t come to me, I must go 
to them.” So, having first noted down the ad- 
dresses of certain acquaintances whom he thought 
the most likely to have legal business, he saun- 
tered forth, with the firm belief and high hope, 
that he would not return empty handed. 

The first few upon whom he called, unfortu- 
nately, were out; the next three, through sneer- 
ing underlings, sent their regrets at not being 
able to see him, owing to the great stress of busi- 
ness; the next two, who had always affected a 
warm interest in his welfare, received him with 
open arms, as it were, but quickly retreated into 
cold reserve, the moment he broached the pur- 
pose of his visit. One, or two, being distantly 
related to his mother, promised to keep his name 
before them, though with a reservation that noth- 


122 


Odd Types 


ing might possibly come of it, since they already 
had attorneys to whom they were bound by the 
stronger ties of friendship. The last three on his 
list, being relatives of a nearer degree, and un- 
able on the spur of the moment to think of a 
better excuse, put him off with the plea that just 
at this time they really had nothing in the legal 
line that required attention; but assured him that, 
if anything turned up, they would send for him. 
They followed this cheering intelligence with ex- 
pressions of deep wonder at his boldness and 
valor in attempting to establish a practice in a 
great city like New York, unaided, and alone. 
It was a stupendous undertaking, they thought, 
but added, with a very commiserating smile, that 
perhaps he would be one of the lucky few. 

Brief, now thoroughly heart-sick and hope- 
less, turned on his heel and went back wearily 
to his office. Arrived there, he locked the door, 
flung himself in his chair before the desk, and 
with head sunk on breast, gave himself up to 
melancholy meditations. To him, this universal 
refusal of assistance on the part of those who 
were connected with him by blood or acquaint- 
anceship, was incomprehensible. He rightly sus- 
pected that when they claimed not to be in need 
of legal aid, they were deliberately lying; but 
what the real cause of their repudiation of him 
was, he could not possibly conjecture. He had 
not yet had sufficient worldly experience to know 
that it is only business which begets business ; 
that in order to interest others in your affairs, 
you must interest yourself in theirs, or as the 
German saying is, '‘one hand washes the other.” 


Odd Types 


123. 


As for our relatives (God bless them?) they are 
generally more in evidence after, than before, the 
attainment of success. 

Brief, however, not knowing these things, nat- 
urally felt very much chagrined at the result of 
his efforts, and as he contrasted, in his memory, 
the words with the actions of his intimates, was 
fast approaching that uncharitable state of mind 
(into which all men who fail inevitably fall), 
where one imagines that the whole human race is 
leagued together to encompass one’s destruction. 
In this unhappy mental condition Brief remained 
for many hours, and though he cudgeled his 
brains to devise a means out of his predicament, 
he was forced at length to wend his way home- 
ward, as much at sea as ever. 

It is a well known fact that though fortune 
usually travels alone, misfortune never comes 
singly. Let one little incident go awry, and im- 
mediately a hundred others will follow in its 
train. So it happened to poor Brief. When he 
arrived home, he was greeted with the news that 
his mother had suddenly been taken ill, and that 
the physician, who had been summoned to attend 
her, had pronounced her condition extremely 
precarious. It seemed that she had caught a 
heavy cold, which, settling on the lungs, had de- 
veloped into pneumonia. At the doctor’s sug- 
gestion, Brief and his father took turns in keep- 
ing watch during the night, and taking care that 
the action of the heart did not cease. In spite 
of their efforts, however, the next day found the 
patient much weaker, and on the third day, with 
a soft, gentle sigh, the good woman fell into that 


124 


Odd Types 


eternal slumber from which no one as yet has 
been known to awake. 

Brief thought that now his cup of grief was 
certainly filled to the brim, and that his run of 
ill-luck must surely be at an end. But it seemed 
not. For hardly had a week elapsed, since his 
mother had been borne to her last resting-place, 
when his father, similarly stricken, also took to 
his bed, and after a short illness of four days, his 
soul, too, quietly melted away from earthly gaze. 

Naturally, this rapid succession of hard blows 
made Briefs heart very sore; and had circum- 
stances permitted, he would doubtless have sur- 
rendered himself to useless bewailments. As it 
was, however, his financial straits left him no 
time for idle sorrow. So delving into the chaos 
in which his father had left his affairs, the dis- 
tracted son made an earnest endeavor to bring 
them into some show of order. But he soon 
found that the task was hopeless. All that he 
could discover after two days of incessant labor, 
was that the liabilities far exceeded the assets. 
In other words, had Briefs father made a will, 
he would have been forced to pattern it after that 
of Rabelais: ‘T owe much, I have nothing, the 
rest I leave to the poor.’’ 

It was now almost three weeks since Brief had 
been at his pffice, and though he dreaded to go 
there, lest he should find his furniture on the 
street and himself dispossessed for non-payment 
of rent, still he felt that this was the only thing 
to do. Accordingly, summoning to his aid all 
his fortitude, he started forth, with many mis- 
givings, on his voyage of discovery. When he 


Odd Types 


125 


arrived at the building in which his office was, 
or at least had been, situated, he crept stealthily 
up the stairs, like a criminal fearing arrest, and 
when he came in front of the door, stood still 
for a moment to quiet the flutterings of his heart. 
To his glad surprise, he found that his name 
had not been erased from the glass, and when, 
with a trembling hand, he turned the knob and 
entered, there to his joy was the furniture still 
intact. 

After a hasty examination which satisfied him 
that everything was just as he had left it. Brief 
sat down before his desk to reflect. He tried to 
do this calmly, but whenever he heard footsteps 
in the hall, his heart in spite of him jumped into 
his throat, and he expected every moment to see 
the unwelcome face of some creditor obtrude 
itself rudely upon his view. Several times he 
passed through these unpleasant sensations, only 
to find in the end that they were false alarms. 

And the more Brief reflected the deeper grew 
his despair. The prospect of the morrow, with 
its hopeless uncertainties, kept dangling before 
his eyes like a suspended sword. Hour after 
hour passed, and no solution suggested itself. If 
only he could get a single little case, it would 
help him out of his temporary embarrassments. 
But the question was where to get that case. At 
times, he would look out of the window, and then 
his fancy would select one of the countless num- 
ber hurrying by, and picture what would be the 
outcome, should the feet of the chosen individual 
stray hitherward. At first, it would be the col- 
lection of a small account. Then, perhaps, a 


126 


Odd Types 


slight accident, fifty per cent, of the proceeds of 
which he would generously give to his lawyer. 
And then (why not?) this person would fall heir 
to a fortune in England, and would, from pure 
kindness of heart, ofifer Brief one-half of all he 
recovered. If the amount were fifty thousand 
dollars, he (Brief) would make twenty-five thou- 
sand, and be set up for life ; but while he was at 
it, why might it not as well be two hundred thou- 
sand dollars, for then he (Brief) would be rich 
at one bound. And so his imagination would 
run on, as the imagination will, when fortune is 
at its lowest ebb, and the figures would become 
larger and larger and Brief would grow more 
and more dated at the brilliancy of the bright 
hallucination, when suddenly his glance would 
encounter his office furniture, and the recollec- 
tion that it was not yet paid for, would bring him 
back, with a deep and sudden pang, to the bleak 
reality. To his credit, it must be said that he 
did not altogether abandon hope until the clock 
across the street pointed to the hour of five. 
Then, realizing that further prospect of business 
for that day was out of the question, he arose, 
and with a heart heavy as lead, started to don his 
overcoat. 

But it is an old saying that ''every cloud has a 
silver lining,’' and it is a well known fact that it 
is always darkest before the dawn. Just as Brief 
had pulled out his key preparatory to locking up, 
the door swung open, and a young man, appar- 
ently in great haste, stepped in. 

"Is a notary here ?” asked the young man. 

'Tm a notary,” replied Brief, as quickly as 


Odd Types 127 

possible, for fear the youthful vision would 
vanish. 

“Good!’' exclaimed the young man, “I was 
afraid I wouldn’t find any. Can you come down 
the street with me, right away?” 

“Certainly,” answered Brief, grabbing his hat. 
“Shall I bring my seal?” 

“I don’t know whether it’s necessary,” rejoined 
the young man. 

“Well, it’ll do no harm to take it along,” said 
Brief, and hastily wrapping the heavy iron in a 
newspaper, he locked the door, and a moment 
afterward found himself rushing down the street 
by the side of his unexpected harbinger of hope. 
As they sped along, his companion, in response to 
Brief’s queries, explained that he was employed 
in the large drygoods establishment of Philip 
Gloom & Co., and that Mr. Gloom was anxious 
to have an important contract executed at once, 
and had sent him in quest of a notary. The 
young man added that he had gone into a dozen 
different offices before he had reached Brief, and 
that in every one of them, the notaries had al- 
ready departed for the day — which goes to prove 
that the tardy bird also sometimes catches a 
worm. 

At the end of five minutes, Brief reached his 
destination, and was ushered into the private of- 
fice. Mr. Gloom, after introducing himself and 
another gentleman who was to be the other 
party to the contract, took up a pen and was 
about to sign his name, when suddenly he 
stopped, and turning toward Brief, asked: “Are 
you a lawyer?” 


128 Odd Types 

*‘Yes,” replied Brief, adding mentally, '^with- 
out clients/' 

^‘Suppose you look over this agreement, then ?" 
suggested Mr. Gloom. 

Brief took the document, and perused it care- 
fully. When he had finished, he called Mr. 
Gloom’s attention to two paragraphs that did 
not appear to him to express properly the mean- 
ing which the parties intended to convey. Mr. 
Gloom and the other gentleman thereupon went 
over the two clauses together several times, and 
after considerable discussion, concluded that 
Brief was right. 

‘'Can you help us out?” asked Mr. Gloom. 

‘T think I can,” answered Brief, modestly, and 
then proposed a phraseology that happily hit the 
nail exactly on the head. Both men, in one 
breath, requested Brief to make the desired alter- 
ation, and insert the words just as he had spoken 
them. After he had done this, and both had 
signed their names, and Brief had affixed his 
signature as notary public, Mr. Gloom set Briefs 
heart palpitating by inquiring what his charge 
was. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” began Brief, timidly; 
then with a sudden spurt of boldness: “I sup- 
pose, about — five dollars.” As Brief uttered the 
last words he blinked his eyes, as though he 
were blinded by a bright glare. 

“Five dollars!” exclaimed Mr. Gloom. 

“I know it’s quite large,” began Brief apolo- 
getically. 

“Quite large!” interjected Mr. Gloom. “Why, 
young man, you’re too modest. Here, take this. 


Odd Types 


129 


Your work is worth all of it,” and handed him 
a crisp ten-dollar bill. (Don’t sneer, dear reader. 
Remember, this is fiction.) Brief received the 
money in a manner that, in spite of his efforts 
at restraint, smacked of eagerness, and caused 
Gloom to look at him in a sad, sympathetic way 
that made him very uncomfortable. Anxious 
to put an end to the unpleasant scrutiny. Brief 
extended his hand to bid Mr. Gloom good-bye, 
when the latter again suddenly — as though the 
thought had just flashed upon him — blurted out: 
'"Have you a card?” Brief replied that he 
had, and, taking one from his vest pocket, handed 
it to Gloom, who, thanking him, carefully placed 
it between the pages of a small memorandum 
book, which he evidently always carried with 
him. Then, with a handshake all around, Brief 
took his departure. 

Thus, as above narrated, Philip Gloom and 
James Brief met for the first time. It was not 
many days after this initial meeting that Brief 
was again summoned to Gloom’s office — in this 
instance, for consultation regarding the collec- 
tion of certain delinquent accounts. Having ac- 
quitted himself creditably as to these. Gloom be- 
gan by degrees to intrust more and more of his 
legal affairs in Brief’s hands until, finally, the lat- 
ter became his sole attorney in all his interests, 
both business and personal. 

With the rise in his fortunes, Brief proceeded 
to indulge in better clothes, thereby bringing out 
his physical perfections to greater advantage. 
To a stranger meeting him for the first time, 
Brief’s appearance always conveyed a sense of 


130 


Odd Types 


neatness, precision and alertness. His attire, 
even in the darkest days of misfortune, had 
never been slovenly ; and now, when circum- 
stances permitted him to bestow some care on 
himself, it was a model of orderly arrangement. 
His trousers were carefully creased, just to the 
proper height; his shoes had always a polish un- 
flecked by a single speck of dirt; his tie was 
never a-slant in the slightest degree, and his 
cuffs at all times projected beyond his coat 
sleeves exactly an eighth of an inch — never more 
and never less. 

Like the clothes, so the man. Of middle 
height, his figure was yet symmetrical, and in its 
lines precise. There were in it no indefinite 
curves, every part having a definite beginning 
and a definite end. The forms of the hands were 
distinctly shaped, and had about them no un- 
graceful flabbiness. But it was, above all, in his 
face, clean-shaven and clear-cut, that one most 
observed the air of alertness and precision al- 
ready mentioned. His black hair was straight 
and even and always parted exactly in the mid- 
dle. His eyebrows were also straight and even, 
and each hair in them lay in its proper place. 
His eyes, dark brown in color, looked at one, 
keen and sharp, and with a gaze that sometimes 
was very disconcerting. His nose was thin, 
straight, and a little long, but also precise. His 
lips were thin, but clearly defined. His chin 
was rather pointed, but instead of detracting, 
added to the general charm of the face by giving 
it a somewhat oval outline. 

Like the man, so his surroundings. Brief’s 


Odd Types 


131 

desk was always in order. Every paper had its 
particular place and was always to be found in 
that place. His blotter never had any ink-spots 
on it. His ink-well always was kept filled to the 
same height. All the pictures hung exactly at 
the same distance from the ceiling, and even his 
revolving chair carried out the general rule of 
exactness by always being the same space from 
the floor. 

When Brief became more intimate with Phil 
Gloom, and was fairly well assured of retaining 
his patronage, he began to devote his extra in- 
come to the purchase of various articles essen- 
tial to a properly equipped law office, and by 
degrees procured a safe, a letter-press, and law 
books. He had not yet arrived at the point 
where he felt justifled in buying a case-file, 
though if circumstances continued as propitious 
as they were at that time, he entertained bright 
hopes of soon securing even that impressive 
token of legal prosperity. If the truth must be 
told, though Brief tried hard to increase his 
clientele, yet for many months it remained sta- 
tionary, and did not extend beyond the solitary 
figure of Phil Gloom. 

During that period, Brief — fearing lest he 
might lose even Gloom if the latter discovered 
the true state of affairs — frequently had recourse 
to innocent little deceptions in order to delude 
his generous patron. Accordingly, at times, 
when Gloom would send for him. Brief would 
inform the messenger that, to his deep regret, it 
would be impossible to call until a later hour 
owing to the fact that his presence was required 


132 


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immediately in court, where a case which could 
no longer be put off was on the point of being 
tried. Then, after ostentatiously placing a card 
on the door stating that he would return in the 
course of two hours, Brief would go out with the 
messenger, and, pretending to be in great haste, 
would jump into the elevator, take out his silver 
watch, appear to be annoyed at finding himself 
so late, snap his watch impatiently, put it back 
nervously in his pocket, and as soon as the ele- 
vator reached the ground floor, would, with a 
hasty farewell to Gloom’s minion, rush into the 
street and the next instant disappear around the 
corner. Five minutes afterward, who would re- 
appear in the building he had just left but Brief, 
now walking slowly, and glancing around fur- 
tively to see if the coast was clear. Instead of 
using the elevator, and thus courting discovery, 
he would take to the stairs, glide up them like a 
shadow, enter his office, and, taking out his little 
pipe, would surrender himself with a sigh to 
smoke and dreams. At other times he would, in 
response to Gloom’s summons, come running into 
the latter’s private office, almost out of breath, 
and ask anxiously if the matter in hand was 
likely to take more than half an hour. Usually 
Gloom would reply in the negative, and then 
Brief, uttering an exclamation of relief, would 
state to Gloom that he had just received word 
from a very wealthy old lady uptown to call at 
three in order to draw up her will. In this and 
other ways Brief, not yet well enough acquainted 
with Phil Gloom to understand him, thought to 
throw dust in his good friend’s eyes, and thus 


Odd Types 


^33 


blind him to the actual state of affairs. Had he 
really understood Gloom, he would never have 
resorted to such devices. For no man was less 
influenced by what his neighbor did than Phil 
Gloom. On the contrary, nothing pleased the 
man more than to fly in the face of the rest of 
the world, and the knowledge that Brief was not 
patronized by others would have been so much 
the stronger reason, in Gloom’s eyes, for giving 
him his support. In short, Phil Gloom was one 
of those rare beings who refuse to fawn on suc- 
cess for iti own sake, and who especially delight 
in lending a helping hand to struggling merit. 
Though Gloom’s misanthropy' made him view 
Brief in the same light as other men, and attrib- 
ute to him the same base motives, yet, in spite of 
himself, he was so strongly fascinated by the 
young lawyer’s brilliant mentality, that he acted 
toward him as he had never acted before to any 
one else — that is, took an interest in his career, 
and whenever opportunity offered, urged his ac- 
quaintances to employ him as their advocate. It 
was in this way, in fact, that Brief had been en- 
abled to acquire Mr. Shoddy as a client, and 
thus double his rather limited practice. 

Though, through this addition. Brief’s income 
was materially increased, he still refrained from 
such expensive luxuries as a stenographer and 
office boy, and, fearing lest a change in location 
might cause a change of luck, clung tenaciously 
to his miserable little ten-dollar-a-month office. 
Here, as we have seen, after Mr. Shoddy’s death, 
he had his first interview with the deceased man’s 
widow and daughter, and here also, as we have 


134 


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seen, he received the joyous news of his retainer 
by them as their attorney. 

It was about two months after this momentous 
event that Brief first began to feel the need of 
more commodious quarters, and formed the bold 
resolution of taking in his employ an assistant. 
After considerable vacillation and some fond re- 
grets for the old associations, he managed at 
length to tear himself away from the scene of 
•his early struggles, and to transfer himself and 
his belongings to a suite of three rooms in the 
upper part of another building further down the 
same street. 

As soon as he was comfortably settled in his 
new quarters, he cast about for the assistant 
aforesaid. In reply to his advertisement, there 
came to him at least fifty applicants, of all sizes, 
from four to six feet, and of all ages, from four- 
teen to twenty-one, and in various stages of 
cleanliness, from the boy with dirty hands and 
clean face to the lad with clean hands and the 
dirt washed back to his ears. Out of these Brief 
finally selected a sandy-haired, freckled-faced, 
raw-boned young man of some sixteen summers, 
yclept Clement Firth, and for his valuable ser- 
vices agreed to pay him the munificent sum of 
three dollars weekly. 

The chief reason why Brief gave Firth the 
preference, was because the latter could veil his 
shrewdness under an appearance of stupidity so 
well, that the most sagacious observer would be 
deceived. Besides, Clement possessed the rare 
faculty of keeping his own counsel, and never 
disclosing his employer’s secrets. He had, how- 


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135 


ever, one great failing, which Brief soon dis- 
covered, and which, had Clement not been en- 
dowed with other great, compensatory faculties, 
would undoubtedly have led to his discharge. 
This failing was his continual propensity to stum- 
ble. He always seemed to be in his own way, 
and his feet were forever getting in the wrong 
place. 

Poor Clement tried hard to overcome this de- 
fect, but the greater his efforts, the more frequent 
his falls. It actually seemed as if fate had or- 
dained that he should stumble from his first to 
his last breath. His entry into life had been a 
tumble, and from that moment on, whatever of 
good or ill befell him, came from a stumble. 
When he had reached the age of one year with- 
out cutting a tooth, and fever had seized on 
him, and the doctor announced that his life 
could only be saved by a serious operation on 
his gums, Clement managed somehow to slip 
from his mother’s arms and fall on his face ; 
and when they picked him up, lo, and behold ! 
a tooth showed itself through the place where 
his mouth had come in contact with the edge of 
the table. As Clement grew up, and began to 
mingle with other boys, his constant tumbling 
attracted their attention, and they, with the usual 
boyish readiness at inventing nicknames, dubbed 
him ''Clumsy” — a sobriquet which seemed des- 
tined to cling to him throughout the rest of his 
lifetime. During his school days it was a tum- 
ble that showed him the correct answer to^ a 
question in examination, which just gave him 
enough points to graduate to the next class ; and 


136 


Odd Types 


it was a tumble which, occurring just at the 
right moment in the delivery of a recitation, 
earned him a prize in elocution. It was finally a 
tumble over a newspaper that brought to his 
notice Briefs advertisement, and culminated in 
his obtaining the position. 

Though Brief was at first much annoyed by 
Clement's inability to refrain from tripping, he 
became by degrees accustomed to it, and uncon- 
sciously fell into the habit, to which others had 
succumbed, of calling his young satellite, 
‘‘Clumsy." The more they became acquainted 
with each other, the better they got along to- 
gether. During his first week. Clumsy had so 
little to do that he deluded himself into believing 
that he had fallen into a sinecure. But not 
long afterward the number of Briefs callers in- 
creased so rapidly, and in such large numbers, 
that Clumsy was quickly convinced of the erron- 
eousness of his first impressions. This sudden 
increase of business not only astonished Clumsy, 
but Brief as well. Soon after the latter had 
become established in his new offices the report 
of his apparently growing success seemed some- 
how to have reached the ears of his relatives and 
friends, or rather those who pretended to be 
friends ; and before long these came trooping in, 
one after another, not only pressing and urging 
him, but actually begging him, to take charge of 
their legal entanglements. And when he named 
a fee that was double the amount he would have 
asked in former times, they fairly threw the 
money at him, at the same time humbly thanking 
him for his kindness in deigning to accept the 


Odo Types 


«37 

paltry sums, and murmuring their surprise at 
the modesty of his charges. 

In other words, it was the old story over again. 
When a man is gliding down the path to failure, 
every one either draws away, so as to clear his 
skirts of him, or else puts out his foot and 
kicks the poor fellow, so as to make his descent 
swifter. But when a man, in spite of all op- 
position, succeeds in climbing upward towards 
success, then every one rushes forward, and vies 
with his neighbor to give him aid. 

Brief, on whom the bitter struggle of the past 
had made a deep impression, now that he was 
independent and indifferent whether these peo- 
ple came to him or not, proceeded to take the 
most heinous revenge on them that was possible 
under the circumstances — that is, he charged 
them exorbitant sums for trifling services; and 
they, deluded fools, thought their former un- 
kindnesses forgotten. 


138 


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CHAPTER IX. 

BRIEF HAS VISITORS. 

As has already been observed, Brief’s early 
struggles had made on him a deep impression, 
and had implanted in him a thorough apprecia- 
tion of the value of money. It, therefore, was 
not surprising that in so important a matter as 
the choice of a wife his mind should have taken 
a mercenary trend, and that his predilection for 
Miss Minerva Shoddy should have been largely 
influenced by the size of her dowry. To be sure. 
Brief persuaded himself that he loved the girl 
for herself alone, but it is very doubtful whether, 
had she been poor, there would have been en- 
gendered in his breast the same affection for her 
as now. Since, however, she was rich, and her 
mother was opposed to his suit. Brief, imbued 
with that imp of perverseness so common to the 
whole human family, which always craves what 
is farthest out of its reach, was more determined 
than ever to win her. He was desirous, to be 
sure, of gaining her with the consent of her 
mother, but- if that was impossible, then he was 
ready to resort to a more unconventional method. 

Meanwhile, the clandestine correspondence be- 
tween Minerva and himself having continued 


Odd Types 


139 


without Interruption from its incipiency, Brief 
was kept closely in touch with every incident that 
had a bearing on their mutual object; and so on 
the evening previous to the day on which Min- 
erva intended to call on him, he received a hastily 
written note from Miss Shoddy apprising him 
of the approaching delight. 

Accordingly the next morning, having arisen 
earlier than usual. Brief set out for his office in 
a very gracious mood. The day was uncommon- 
ly fine. The great golden disc of the sun, im- 
bedded in a translucent sapphire sky, seemed 
with its glittering rays to transmute the dark, dull 
earth into a shimmering mass of variegated 
jewels. Especially was this so of the park 
through which Brief, taking advantage of the 
beautiful weather, now wended his way. This 
verdant oasis, surrounded on all sides by long 
rows of big buildings of white stone and red 
brick, seemed transformed, as it were, into a 
vast bed of emerald enamel, incrusted with in- 
numerable pearls of dew, and encircled by a 
compact mass of countless opals and rubies. But 
why, the reader probably queries, these rather 
strained allusions to precious stones ? Why? Be- 
cause the author wishes the outward surround- 
ings to harmonize with the inner state of mind. 
For be it known that Brief, as he was walking 
along, was thinking of monetary things and of 
how much more pleasant it was to be rich than 
poor. He was contrasting the past with the 
present. He was contemplating, almost with 
awe, the prodigious power of wealth. What a 
potent influence, thought he, the state of one’s 


140 


Odd Types 


purse wields over a man! When it is lean and 
emaciated, how small, how insignificant you 
feel 1 How spiritless you are ; and how despic- 
able you appear in the eyes of your friends. How 
they all rush away at sight of you, and how un- 
comfortable your presence seems to make them. 
How you cringe and crouch before those in bet- 
ter circumstances, and how far beneath their 
plane you feel yourself to be. Then is the time 
when your irritated spirit vents itself in splene- 
tic satire, and unmanly hate. Then it is that you 
feel out of humor with all the world and find 
fault even with your Creator. At such a time 
nothing is right. Everybody is a hardened rascal 
and a heartless thief, and Justice — why. Justice — 
seems altogether to have slunk from the earth. 
But when your purse is fat and plethoric, ah! 
then it is another story. Then how buoyant in- 
deed are your spirits! How independent, how 
full of self-reliance and how immune from all 
evil you feel yourself to be. How everything 
seems to happen just as you wish it, and how 
amiable and full of goodness and kindness every 
one appears to you. Then it is that you can- 
not understand how people can tire of life and 
pray for death. Then it is that you feel at peace 
with all the world. Then it is that you indulge 
in true, merry laughter, and the world — the com- 
placent world — laughs with you. 

Some such thoughts as these were passing 
through Briefs mind as he was sauntering along, 
and strengthened, if indeed it needed to be 
strengthened, the resolve he had already formed 
to make all the money he could in every way 


Odd Types 


141 

possible — ^by pursuing his legal trade, by wed- 
ding Minerva, and generally by grasping and 
following every opportunity that presented the 
prospect of pecuniary reward. 

After leaving the park Brief boarded a sur- 
face car bound for downtown. But even this 
rather slow mode of locomotion brought him to 
his office fully a half hour before his usual time. 
As he entered he surprised Clumsy stumbling 
toward his desk and finally landing the mail on 
it with a sprawl. 

‘‘Grood morning, Clumsy,’’ said Brief cheerily. 

‘‘Oh! Good morning, sir,” gasped Clumsy, 
nearly falling backward in surprise at sight of 
his employer at this unwonted hour. 

“Any mail?” queried Brief. 

“Yes, sir,” replied Clumsy, almost breathless- 
ly, “three letters.” Then after gazing at Brief 
a moment with eyes big as saucers, as though 
thoroughly to assure himself that it was no 
dream. Clumsy stepped toward the door, where, 
in his bewilderment he straightway stubbed his 
toe against the saddle and came a cropper that 
with wonderful precision landed him in his ac- 
customed chair in the outer office. 

At the racket he made Brief, who had just taken 
in his hand the first letter preparatory to opening 
it, looked up, glanced in Clumsy’s direction and 
shook his head wearily, and then with an amused 
smile proceeded to tear open the envelope. As 
he pulled out the enclosure a check fluttered from 
it and fell on the floor. Brief did not appear 
elated by its appearance in the least. In fact 
he did not trouble to pick it up or to look at it, 


Odd Types 


142 

but having leisurely perused the communication 
by which it was accompanied, impaled the letter 
on a file near at hand and turned to the next mis- 
sive. From this and from the third also, a check 
fell out, but still Brief maintained a calm and 
unruffled mien. This indifference to fortune’s 
favors proved one of two things : Either the re- 
ceipt of checks had become so frequent as to be 
no longer a novelty, or else Brief’s bank account 
was in such a condition that a few checks more 
or less were of no consequence. 

Having finished his mail. Brief turned to his 
diary. There he found that this was the day 
on which Demos was to call for certain notes 
in reference to the legal aspect of a question 
which he (Demos) intended to discuss in a very 
short time in Congress, and which notes, after 
considerable begging on Demos’s part, Brief had 
agreed to furnish him. Brief, however, had a 
vague suspicion that these applications for legal 
lore were a mere subterfuge. For of late Demos 
had been a very frequent caller, and on each oc- 
casion Brief had noticed that he invariably 
steered the conversation toward the Shoddys. At 
first Brief could not comprehend the reason, but 
when in response to his inquiries he received a 
long letter from Minerva, Demos’s actions proved 
no longer a puzzle. After that, Brief, who shared 
with Minerva a decided disinclination to have 
Demos enter into closer relations with the Shoddy 
family, grew very chary of furnishing that states- 
man with information about them, and so every 
time Demos tried to extract it from him, there 
immediately ensued between them a verbal fenc- 


Odd Types 


143 


ing bout as pretty as any that ever was fought 
with the foils. In these contests Demos would 
make frequent fierce lunges in the form of per- 
tinent queries about Phil Gloom, his wife, and 
the rest of the town folk; but Brief, always on 
guard, skilfully parried them and generally came 
out victorious. In spite of repeated defeats, how- 
ever, Demos did not lose heart, and whenever 
opportunity offered, again and again returned 
to the attack. 

This morning Brief, not knowing exactly when 
Minerva and her mother might arrive, and fear- 
ing lest Demos, if he tarried very long might 
meet them, set about to have everything in readi- 
ness for that gentleman, so that when he came he 
could bundle him off quickly. Opening, there- 
fore, the upper drawer of his desk and drawing 
from it several closely written sheets of paper, 
carefully arranged and fastened together with 
brass brads, he enclosed them in an envelope and 
put them to one side, near enough at hand, 
though, to be taken up at a moment's notice. 
This done, he drew out some legal cap, placed 
it on his desk, and having summoned Clumsy, in- 
structed that young Cerberus not to allow any 
one to disturb him, as he was very busy. 

‘Tf a person wishes to see me," said Brief, 
‘‘get his name and knock before you enter." 

Then after seeing that Clumsy had closed the 
door tight he seated himself before his desk, and 
taking pen in hand, began to scribble rneaning- 
less sentences on the paper in front of him. He 
had covered in this manner about half a page 
when he heard the outer portal open and the 


144 


Odd Types 


well-known voice of Demos inquire whether he 
was in. Instantly Brief’s one hand went up to 
his head, as if to support that ponderous dome 
of thought, while the other began to skim over 
the sheet before him with feverish celerity. The 
next moment Clumsy knocked. 

''Come,” cried Brief, in a tone that betokened 
annoyance. In response to the invitation the 
door opened and disclosed Clumsy’s grinning 
face, standing out in bold relief against the fea- 
tures of Demos in the dim background. 

"Mr. Demos,” announced Clumsy, leering. 

"Oh, yes,” said Brief, at once rising and tak- 
ing up the package of papers. "Tell Mr. Demos” 
— here Brief, peering out, pretended for the first 
time to see his visitor’s face. "Oh, there you 
are,” exclaimed Brief. "You’ll find those rec- 
ords all correct, old man,” continued he, address- 
ing the statesman, and holding out the bundle at 
arm’s length. 

Demos, stepping forward, took them, but as 
he again advanced with the apparent intention 
of entering the private office. Brief seized hold of 
the door and started to swing it to. 

"One moment, Jim,” began Demos, noticing 
Brief’s action. 

"Very sorry,” returned Brief hurriedly, "but 
really I haven’t a moment to spar^” and before 
the latter could prevent it, slammed the door shut 
almost in his face. 

"Well,” exclaimed Demos, nonplussed, turn- 
ing to Clumsy, "I call that applying the rule of 
closure with a vengeance. What’s the matter?” 

"Very busy,” replied Clumsy, with a grin. 


Odd Types 


t4S 


“An important case ?” queried Demos. 

“Yep.” 

“What is it about?” 

“Don’t know.” 

“Hm ! Well, tell Mr. Briel,” said Demos rather 
crestfallen, “I’ll call in again to-morrow at about 
this hour,” and squaring his shoulders and com- 
pressing his lips determinedly he took his de- 
parture. Clumsy leered after him with a smile 
on his face that reached almost from ear to ear. 
The young rascal’s intelligence had grasped the 
situation in a flash, and his sense of humor en- 
abled him to enjoy it to the full. 

For a few minutes now the hum of silence in 
tlie office was unbroken. In fact, it began to 
grow so prolonged that a fear arose in Brief’s 
mind lest his expected visitors should disappoint 
him, when all at once he heard in the outer office 
the swish of a dress, followed by the tones of a 
voice that set his heart beating at triple its regu- 
lar speed. This time, without waiting for the 
formality of a knock, he hurried to the door, and 
opening it, was just in the nick of time to prevent 
Clumsy, who had arisen to announce the new- 
comers, from measuring his length on the floor. 

“Ah,” exclaimed Brief, as Mrs. Shoddy, puflf- 
ing like a porpoise, hove into view, followed by 
the lighter craft of Minerva, “you could not have 
come more opportunely. I have several papers 
here that require signing. Pray, step right in, 
and take seats.” 

While the ladies, in obedience to this invita- 
tion, proceeded to sail into the inner office. Brief, 
knowing Qumsy’s weakness for eavesdropping. 


146 


Odd Types 


and anxious to have no witnesses to what might 
ensue, took up a book that lay on his desk and 
handed it to him. 

‘Take this volume on ‘How to Get Rich’ to 
Lawyer Poorman,” said he, “and tell him I found 
it very entertaining, and thank him exceedingly 
for the loan of it.” Then, as though it were an 
afterthought, he added: “A — if he isn’t in, wait 
for him.” Brief knew very well that Poorman 
would not be in at that hour — in fact, that the 
wretched, struggling pettifogger, by reason of 
wandering about the police courts in search of 
a fee, seldom reached his office till noon — and 
so reckoned by this means to be rid of Clumsy’s 
presence for some time. Clumsy, on the other 
hand, guessing that his errand was merely a pre- 
text to get him out of the way, and filled with re- 
gret at the thought of what he would lose by his 
absence, was tantalizingly slow about starting. 
Finally, however, after several admonitory 
scowls from Brief, having put his cap on his head 
at a sharp slant, he shuffled off in his usual awk- 
ward manner, and having tripped several times 
in his progress across the hall, at length boarded 
the elevator and was lost to view. 

As soon as Clumsy was gone Brief returned 
briskly to the inner office, where he found Mrs. 
Shoddy safely anchored in his largest armchair, 
with her charming daughter, Minerva, floating a 
little to her rear. 

“Dear me, Mr. Brief,” gasped Mrs. Shoddy, 
as she smoothed back her straggling hair with 
her handkerchief, “I do wish you hadn’t located 


Odd Types 


147 

your offices so high up. Them stairs are suffi- 
cient to kill one."’ 

‘'Didn’t you take the elevator?” asked Brief, in 
apparent surprise, at the same time winking at 
Minerva. 

"No, indeed,” replied Mrs. Shoddy, "I don’t 
like elevators. They always remind me of yeast 
— rise very fast, but there ain’t no strength to 
them.” 

At this odd comparison Brief, who had be- 
gun assorting some documents, laughed very 
heartily as though he really thought the remark 
funny, while Minerva glanced at her mother with 
a sneer, her lips silently forming the words, 
"There goes the cook again.” 

"I am sorry,” said Brief, assuming a facetious 
manner, "I did not know of your prejudice, Mrs. 
Shoddy. If I had I would certainly have con- 
sidered it before locating here. However, what’s 
done can’t be undone. Besides,” he added with 
a smile, "I make it a point always to aim high.” 

"I suppose, Mr. Brief,” interposed Minerva 
laughing, "that that is what you call a flight of 
genius.” 

"Somewhat of that nature,” rejoined Brief. 

"But such flights are dangerous.” 

"Dangerous!” repeated Brief, glancing up at 
Minerva amorously. "Why?” 

"Because,” answered Minerva, with another 
laugh, "they often end in a garret.” 

"Very true,” returned Brief rather soberly. 
"Still, that is but natural. Genius and poverty, 
you know, are usually allied.” 

"He! he! he!” burst out Mrs. Shoddy, "your 


148 


Odd Types 


remarks, Mr. Brief, are like an appetizing sauce, 
biting but pleasant.’’ 

At this second outbreak of Mrs. Shoddy’s ap- 
parently incorrigible propensity for kitchen wit- 
ticism, Minerva fidgeted about uncomfortably, 
and repressed with evident effort a rising ejacu- 
lation about keeping down the cook. Brief, with- 
out replying, now pushed some papers toward 
Mrs. Shoddy, and requesting her to look them 
over, proceeded leisurely to light a cigarette. As 
Mrs. Shoddy started to examine the papers, 
Minerva, with the apparent design of whiling 
away the time, arose, and passing behind her 
mother, began to look at the backs of the law 
books ranged before her. Brief’s eyes followed 
the trim little figure admiringly. For some mo- 
ments, Minerva seemed wholly absorbed in her 

new occupation so much so that Brief was 

about despairing of catching her attention, when 
she suddenly turned around and faced him. 

“What a splendid library you have, Mr. Brief,” 
she exclaimed, throwing him an affectionate 
glance, but at the same time begging him with a 
gesture of the hand to be discreet. 

“Oh, this is no comparison to the libraries of 
some lawyers,” replied Brief modestly, passing 
his hand to his lips as though to puff his cigar- 
ette, and then quickly waving it toward Min- 
erva in osculatory salutation. Minerva, seeing 
her mother absorbed in the perusal of the papers, 
returned Brief’s salute with both hands. Inad- 
vertently, however, in doing so she made a slight 
noise, which caused Mrs. Shoddy to look up. 

“\AAiy don’t you sit down. Nervy?” exclaimed 


Odd Types 


149 


her mother. “You'll put Mr. Brief's things all 
in disorder." Then, without waiting to see 
whether her daughter had heeded the admonition, 
she plunged into the papers again. Immediate- 
ly the two young people resumed their interest- 
ing pantomime. They were just getting into full 
swing again when Mrs. Shoddy, having com- 
pleted her perusal and looking up, surprised 
Brief in the act of putting his hand to his mouth 
to throw a kiss. Embarrassed, Brief, to hide his 
confusion, hastily shoved the cigarette between 
his teeth and began to puff at it desperately. 

“Hm!" he exclaimed, after a moment, looking 
at Mrs. Shoddy rather sheepishly, “it's out!" 

Brief's manner was so unnatural that the 
widow's suspicions were at once aroused. 

“Aha!" thought Mrs. Shoddy, “those two are 
up to something. I'll just stop that, right away." 
So laying the papers on the desk and turning to 
her daughter (who, having anticipated the move- 
ment, had aleady turned her back to Brief), she 
said very innocently: 

“Don’t you think. Nervy, you'll find more in- 
teresting books on this side ?" pointing toward the 
front. “You've been looking at them others so 
long that a person would think you were try- 
ing to memorize their titles." 

Instead of replying Minerva, disconcerted, 
turned about, and flashing an angry glance at her 
mother, with a pout walked to her chair and 
sat down. Brief in disgust, hurled his cigarette 
savagely into the spittoon. Mrs. Shoddy, how- 
ever, feeling that her object had been attained, 
addressed herself once more to Brief. 


Odd Types 


150 

'Them papers seem to be all correct, Mr. 
Brief,’" she said sweetly. 

"Well, then, sign them,” returned Brief, in 
rather ill-natured tones. Mrs. Shoddy, with an 
amiable air, did as she was bid. 

"Is there anything else for me to sign?” she 
queried, in the same saccharine manner as be- 
fore. 

"No,” snorted Brief, and thrusting his hands 
into his pockets, started to rock, himself back and 
forth in his chair. 

Now, though there was nothing further to de- 
tain her, Mrs. Shoddy made not the slightest 
move to go. The reason was that the main pur- 
pose for which she had come was still unaccom- 
plished. How to broach it, however, sorely 
puzzled her. Though Brief and Minerva were 
aware of her predicament neither made the least 
attempt to aid her. In fact they rather seemed to 
enjoy the spectacle, and gazed at the poor, tor- 
tured woman in silence. Finally, in desperation, 
Mrs. Shoddy, after fumbling for a time with her 
gloves, blurted out: 

"I was going to ask you, Mr. Brief — haven’t 
you heard anything lately of your friend, Mr. 
Demos ?” 

"Oh, is Mr. Demos your friend, too?” inter- 
posed Minerva, with a fine sneering stress on 
"friend.” 

"Friend!” replied Brief superciliously. "No. 
Merely an acquaintance.” Mrs. Shoddy’s already 
red face grew purple. 

"I’m sure, Nervy,” said she, "Mr, Demos’s 


Odd Types 


ISI 

friendslilp ain’t anything to be ashamed of. Is 
it y she asked, turning abruptly toward Brief. 

“Hm, well ’’ began Brief, hesitatingly. 

"‘Never mind answering, Mr. Brief,'" again in- 
terposed Minerva, sarcastically. “Mamma cer- 
tainly does not wish to embarrass you." 

“Embarrass !" cried Mrs. Shoddy rather warm- 
Iv. “Why, Nervv, what on earth are you talking 
about?" 

“Nothing," answered Minerva. “At least, al- 
most nothing, for Mr. Demos is very near its 
equivalent." 

At this Mrs. Shoddy threw up both hands in 
horror. 

“There, Mr. Brief," she exclaimed, “did you 
ever hear anything like that before ?" Then turn- 
ing to her daughter, she added sternly: “Now, 
Nervy, I shan’t bear with this any longer. You 
insult Mr. Demos at every turn ; and I warn you 
at your very next word against him I’ll say some 
things some people won’t care to hear," and then 
she glanced significantly at Brief. The latter, 
knowing that the threatened revelations would 
be uncomplimentary to himself, sat dumb with 
anxiety, while Minerva, feeling that if she should 
irritate her mother much further, the latter would 
be as good as her word, wisely refrained from 
replying, and merely continued to gaze coldly 
before her. 

“The idea!" went on Mrs. Shoddy, after a 
moment’s pause, fanning herself nervously with 
her handkerchief. “Why — it’s really absurd. 
Merely because you dislike Mr. Demos you think 
I must do likewise. Oh, no, it ain’t come as far 


IS2 


Odd Types 


as that yet. You ain’t dictating to me who my 
friends are to be. Simply because you don’t like 
squash ain’t any reason why I shouldn’t.” 

'‘Oh, do suppress the cook, ma,” rejoined Min- 
erva, in tones of disgust. 

'T’ll suppress what I like,” retorted her mother 
with rising anger, “and I’ll express what I like, 
too. Mind that.” 

Minerva vouchsafing no reply, but continuing 
to let her eyes roam about in vacancy, Mrs. 
Shoddy again turned her attention to Brief, who, 
cowed by the exhibition of her fierce temper, had 
by this time become reduced to a state of extreme 
meekness. 

“Now, Mr. Brief, will you ” 

“Return to the previous question, as Mr. 
Demos would say?” interrupted Brief, trying 
to conceal his trepidation under an air of gaiety. 

“Yes.” 

“Well,” resumed Brief, “to tell the truth, Mr. 
Demos has not been very much in evidence in 
this office lately. I saw him this morning, but 
he was in such a hurry that I had no chance to 
say anything to him.” 

“He was here this morning?” repeated Mrs. 
Shoddy with eagerness. 

“Yes, for a moment.” 

“Now isn’t that too bad that we missed him?” 

“It certainly is,” rejoined the hypocritical 
Brief. “Had I known you were coming, I would 
certainly have kept him here at all hazards. I’m 
really exceedingly sorry.” 

“I believe you, Mr. Brief,” replied Mrs. 
Shoddy in grateful tones, rising. “However, 


Odd Types 


^153 


I"m glad to hear that Mr. Demos is still in the 
land of the living. When he comes again, will 
you be good enough to give him my regards?’' 

‘‘Oh, most assuredly,” answered Brief, also 
rising and bowing gallantly. 

“Come, Nervy,” said Mrs. Shoddy, as she 
steered her way forward, “let's be going.” Then 
thinking that her daughter was following in her 
wake she stepped to the door and opened it — 
just the trifle of a moment too late to discover 
Clumsy (who had returned from his errand) 
with his ear glued to the keyhole. 

As she passed over the threshold Brief crossed 
to the other side and turning toward Minerva, 
stretched out his arms. That young lady imme- 
diately threw herself into them. 

“Oh, James!” she murmured ecstatically. 

“Darling,” returned Brief in a voice that 
seemed to vibrate with feeling. 

“Nervy, Nervy ” called Mrs. Shoddy. 

“Oh, I must go, James,” whispered Minerva 
hurriedly, and giving him a passionate kiss, she 
bounded to the door. Then, as she opened it, she 
passed out with an air so demure that it would 
have been impossible to believe such a creature 
capable of deception. Brief for a moment gazed 
after her, then dropping in a chair was lost in 
reflection. 

Buried in reverie, he was thinking of — what? 
Why, of the future and Minerva. Not in the 
conventional vein, however, that most lovers in- 
dulge in, such as how happy they will be with the 
fair creature at their side in a humble little cot- 
tage with its thatched roof; how the little birds 


154 


Odd Types 


will sing among the branches of the overspread- 
ing tree; or how sweetly he and she will com- 
mune in the evening's gloaming. No, indeed. 
The range that his fancy took was far more am- . 
bitious, and he was weaving visions of a great 
stone mansion, glittering within with gold and 
silver, and bedecked with numberless treasures 
of art; he was picturing himself stationed with 
Minerva, attired in silks and brilliants, at the 
door of their reception room receiving the but- 
terflies and dandies of fashion; or, perchance, 
himself standing upon the platform of a great 
hall delivering an address of thanks to some 
constituency from whom he had just purchased 
a high political office. His heated imagination 
was about taking wing for still higher flights 
when the freckled face of Clumsy rudely obtrud- 
ing itself on his view announced: ‘'Mr. Philip 
Gloom." 

With a start Briefs mind dropped down to 
earth once more. As Gloom advanced toward 
him Brief at once surmised that differences had 
again arisen in the Gloom household. For of 
late Phil. Gloom, whenever he had had a quar- 
rel with his wife, had instantly flown to Brief for 
sympathy. To do him justice the latter did not 
relish the role in the least. For, between formu- 
lating arguments in his feigned defence of Mrs. 
Gloom and a lurking hope that a fat divorce case 
would develop in that quarter. Brief was under 
considerable mental strain how to steer his 
course. 

•‘Ah," he cried, as Gloom's dark, intellectual 


Odd Types 155 

face came toward him, ‘T am very glad to see 
you, Mr. Gloom.’' 

‘‘You won’t be,” replied Gloom, seating him- 
self near him with his usual dejected air, “when 
you know why I’ve come.” 

“Yes I will” said Brief cheerily, “for I’m al- 
ways glad to see you, my friend.” 

“That’s impossible,” returned Gloom. 

“Impossible ? Why ?” 

“Because I don’t always cal on business,” an- 
swered Gloom, “and if I don’t call on business 
there’s no money in it for you, and if there’s no 
money in it for you, how can you possibly be glad 
to see me?” 

“Ah, my dear Gloom,” remarked Brief suave- 
ly, “there’s where you’re wrong. Money isn’t 
everything in this world by any means. There 
are many other things which many men and I 
believe I, among them, value even more highly.” 

“Indeed !” exclaimed Gloom in a sarcastic tone. 
“For instance?” 

“Why, friendship, goodness, virtue, a ” 

“Goodness ! Virtue !” interrupted Gloom, 
somewhat savagely, at once starting in on his 
favorite theme. “Bah! Don’t talk such cant. 
Brief; at least don’t talk it to me. Goodness! 
Virtue ! . Those are mere names — names of 
things that do not exist. Such qualities may be 
found in fairy tales, but in actual life — never. 
Ah, Brief,” continued Gloom, his fine sympa- 
thetic features taking on a sadder tinge, “the 
man who studies mankind can only come to one 
termination, and. that is — despair.” 

“Oh, I differ from you there,” replied Brief, 


156 


Odd Types 


more to indulge Gloom in giving vent to his 
pessimistic ideas than really to argue the ques- 
tion. 

‘'Differ from me exclaimed Gloom. “In 
what way?’’ 

“Why,” replied Brief, “I cannot agree with 
you that goodness and virtue are mere names, 
any more than are justice, philanthrophy and 
a number of other noble qualities that I can’t at 
the moment recall. Why, almost every day we 
hear of instances illustrative of some one of these 
grand attributes.” 

“Not every day, Brief. You mean sometimes,” 
responded Gloom. “I admit that. But the com- 
mon herd, the majority of the human race, has 
always been vicious and low and never will be 
otherwise. And then, in many cases, where on 
the surface it seems that men are acting from 
pure motives, you will find on sifting the matter 
that their actions merely spring from base self- 
interest. I know — I know,” continued Gloom, as 
he saw Brief smiling incredulously, “for I have 
studied my fellowmen closely, and the more I 
study them the more I detest and despise them.” 

“I’m surprised at that,” observed Brief, “con- 
sidering the prosperity and happiness they have 
brought to you.” 

“Prosperity and happiness !” echoed Gloom. 
“What prosperity? What happiness?” 

“I see,” said Brief smiling, “you want a bill 
of particulars, as we lawyers say.” 

“I hardly believe you can furnish one,” re- 
plied Gloom testily. 

“Easily,” esponded Brief. “In the first place, 


Odd Types 


157 


though still in the prime of life, you have ac- 
cumulated quite a large fortune, and that I call 
prosperity. Secondly, you are the fortunate pos- 
sessor of a happy home and a loving wife — that 
I call happiness.” Brief purposely referred to 
the home and wife to draw out of Gloom, if pos- 
sible, the present state of atfairs there. In this, 
as will be seen, he was eminently successful. 

‘‘As I expected,” answered Gloom, ‘'your bill 
cites false items. You say I have accumulated 
a large fortune. True, but that was not given 
to me. Oh, no! I had to wrest it from my fel- 
lows by violence and fierce effort, and it was 
only due to my superior cunning and not to their 
kindness of heart that I retained it. As for your 
second and third items,” continued Gloom in 
still more melancholy tones, “they have both 
proved delusions.” Here Gloom paused a mo- 
ment as though for reflection. Then he re- 
sumed : “When I married Miranda I thought that 
she, like I, had married for love. But I soon 
discovered my error. Indeed, it was not many 
months thereafter before she showed the cloven 
foot and told me with her own lips that she had 
taken me for my money.” 

“Oh, she probably said that in anger,” re- 
marked Brief. 

“It is in anger,” responded Gloom, “that peo- 
ple usually speak the truth.” 

“Among men, perhaps ; but not among 
women,” argued Brief. Gloom shook his head 
sadly. “Oh, pshaw!” continued the lawyer, “I 
am afraid you take your wife’s words, like many 
other things in life, far too seriously. From 


158 Odd Types 

all that I have observed she seems very fond of 
you.” 

‘Tond of me!” replied Gloom bitterly. “Yes, 
she must be fond of me indeed, when she crosses 
and exasperates me wherever she can.” 

“May not that,” queried Brief, apologetically, 
“be partly your fault?” 

“Mine? Don’t I give her everything she 
wishes ?” 

“Judging from your own testimony, I should 
say — no.” 

“How ! Hasn’t she a pleasant home ?” 

“The evidence seems to be that way — yes.” 

“Plenty to eat and drink?” 

“True.” 

“And plenty to spend?” 

“No doubt. But there are other things that 
a woman craves.” 

“Other things ?” repeated Gloom, plainly taken 
aback and puzzled. 

“Yes,” returned Brief, “and in this particular 
case I know of at least one.” 

“And that is?” 

“Diversion,” replied Brief. 

“Diversion!” ejaculated Gloom. “What! my 
wife lacks diversion, with household duties to 
look after, a finely selected library, horses and 
carriages ” 

“But no company,” interrupted Brief. 

“Company,” exclaimed Gloom angrily. “Am 
I not company?” 

“Certainly, certainly,” answered Brief quickly, 
“and though I say it to your face, you are the 
best of company.” 


Odd Types 


159 


‘Well then?’’ 

“But a young woman with the fine, entertain- 
ing powers that Mrs. Gloom possesses dislikes 
to have them rust from disuse, and, besides, you 
know new faces occasionally break the monor- 
ony.” 

“New faces!” ejaculated Gloom. “She would 
require no new faces, there would be no mo- 
notony, if she really loved me.” 

“Oh,” rejoined Brief airily, “even love gets 
wearisome sometimes.” 

“Yes. So it seems,” returned Gloom mourn- 
fully. “Most people’s love is only skin deep. 
I, unfortunately, appear to be one of the rare 
exceptions — a sort of emotional freak.” 

“What!” exclaimed Brief, in tones of amaze- 
ment, “in spite of all, you love your wife?” 

“Does that surprise you?” asked Gloom with 
a sigh. 

“Considering how charming Mrs. Gloom is,” 
replied Brief gallantly, “it does not. But come,” 
he added, suddenly losing all interest in the dis- 
cussion, now that the divorce suit seemed as far 
away as ever, “it must be near lunch time. Let 
us go out and take something.” 

“Not to-day,” said Gloom, rising and consult- 
ing his watch, “some other time.” 

“Of course,” remarked Brief, not sorry at the 
prospect of Gloom’s early departure, “I know 
there is no use of urging you.” 

“None,” answered Gloom. “But before leav- 
ing, Brief, I want to repeat what I have often 
said before. No matter what happens, I shall 
expect you to be faithful to me.” 


i6o Odd Types 

''Oh,” began Brief most effusively, "I shall 
be ungrateful indeed, if after all youVe done for 
me, I ” 

"Stop,” interrupted Gloom irritably, "stop 
right there. For a second time, Brief, I ask you 
not to resort to cant. If I expect you to be true 
to me it is not for what I have done for you in 
the past, but for what you may gain from me in 
the future.” Brief opened his mouth as though 
about to protest. "Oh, I know what you would 
say, but that would not alter my convictions. My 
knowledge of human nature has thoroughly con- 
vinced me that gratitude is only found in one 
place, and that is — the dictionary. Hence, I am 
not foolish enough to base my expectations of 
your support upon any benefits I may have al- 
ready conferred. But what I do say is that if 
you prove the exception to the general rule, and 
are found trustworthy, I will pay you better than 
any one else. Good-bye,” and giving Brief a 
shake of the hand Gloom passed out. 

"There,” he muttered as he emerged from the 
building, an almost imperceptible sneer curling 
his lips, 'T have no fear of Brief turning traitor 
now.” 

For a few minutes after Gloom’s departure 
Brief gazed out of the window abstractedly. 

"Well, well,” he murmured as he turned to- 
ward his desk and took up a huge bundle of 
papers, "Fve met strange people before, but 
Gloom is an enigma ta me. With hatred and 
rancor always on his lips, he is yet ever the 
first to befriend a person in distress. He has a 


Odd Types 


i6i 


bitter tongue, but he has certainly a kind heart. 
Clumsy!’’ called Brief, raising his voice.^ 

‘‘Yes, sir,” answered Clumsy shuffling in. 

“Take this brief,” said his employer, “and file 
it with the papers in Witch versus Satyr.” 

“Gee,” exclaimed Clumsy, as he took the mass 
in his arms, “I always thought ‘brief’ meant 
‘short’.” 

“So it does,” remarked Brief, affecting a se- 
vere tone, “but don’t you ever dare to call me 
‘shorty’.” 

“Oh,” returned Clumsy, cleverly caricaturing 
Brief’s manner toward Gloom, “I’d be ungrate- 
ful, indeed, if after ” 

“That will do,” thundered Brief, and Clumsy 
stopped short. 

“Gee,” muttered that awkward specimen of 
humanity, as with his bundle he partly stumbled 
and partly slid into the anteroom, “his nibs ain’t 
feeling well to-day — that’s sure.” 


CHAPTER X. 


CYNIC AND UNFORTUNATE MEET. 

When Phil Gloom left Briefs office he ex- 
pected that in two hours all that required his 
attention would be despatched and that he could 
catch the five o'clock train for home. But four 
o'clock, five o'clock and six o'clock passed, and 
yet Gloom had not completed his business, and 
when at length seven o'clock was reached he 
found himself still in New York — in the upper 
part of its shopping district — tired and hungry. 
Knowing that the next train would not leave be- 
fore nine, Gloom concluded that the best way to 
spend the intervening hours would be to appease 
his appetite. 

Turning, therefore, toward a restaurant which 
he was just passing, he was about to enter it 
when he was accosted by a beggar, wearing green 
goggles. 

'‘Won't you help a poor blind man, sir?" 
pleaded the mendicant in plaintive tones, touch- 
ing Phil’s sleeve. Gloom glanced at the fellow, 
and stopped. His practiced eye told him at 
once that the blindiness was feigned. 

"Why, you wretched imposter," exclaimed 
Gloom indignantly, "you can see as well as I 
can," and shaking him off started away. 


Odd Types 


163 

‘'Oh, sir,” whined the man piteously, “don’t 
be so hard on me. IVe a wife and five children to 
support, and I must do something to take care 
of ’em.” 

“Then why don’t you do it honestly?” de- 
manded Phil. 

“Honestly?” exclaimed the other in woeful 
accents. “It ain’t that I haven’t tried, but it’s im- 
possible. In this world it’s only the rich as can 
aflford to be honest, sir.” 

Whether these remarks were prompted by the 
beggar’s experience in human nature and were 
the result of his observation of Gloom’s face, or 
whether they had been uttered at random, it is 
impossible to say, but they certainly had the de- 
sired effect. For Gloom, again moving toward 
him, fumbled in his pocket and producing a coin 
placed it in the man’s outstretched hand. 

“You are right,” remarked Gloom, “only you 
don’t go far enough. Though the rich can 
aflford to be honest, they very seldom are so. 
People these days have become so depraved that 
they practise dishonesty, not only for profit, but 
for pleasure. I was wrong, therefore, to be 
angry, for you are merely doing what your 
betters do. Here is something more to make 
amends,” and putting another coin in his hands 
Gloom entered the restaurant, leaving the blind 
man staring at him in open-eyed astonishment. 

After giving his order Gloom proceeded to 
spend the time required to fulfill it by taking ob- 
servation of his neighbors, and from their out- 
ward characteristics trying to conjecture their 
inner nature. But he was able to indulge in this 


164 


Odd Types 


unprofitable pastime only a few minutes, for the 
waiter who attended him, having concluded that 
Gloom looked like a good tipper, had performed 
his duties with remarkable celerity, and soon 
Gloom was engaged in dissecting a choice steak 
instead of a foul character. The waiter was very 
attentive and extremely obsequious, as Gloom 
put it to himself, not from innate refinement or 
honorable desire to please, but because he saw 
the prospect of gaining some filthy lucre. 

Knowing that he had ample time. Gloom ate 
leisurely, but good meals, like other good things, 
must finally come to an end. So, having at 
length disposed of the solid dishes, he was on the 
point of raising a cup of coffee to his lips when, 
as he glanced toward the entrance, he saw a 
vision that for a moment deprived him of all 
movement. There, in all its infantile beauty, 
with its charming lines seemingly petrified, so to 
speak, was the familiar face of Dolly Dash, rear- 
ing itself disdainfully above a lithe, prettily pro- 
portioned figure, stylishly garbed and supported 
on either side by a gay cavalier. Their entry 
had been made with the usual boisterousness so 
characteristic of people of the ''demi-monde,’’ 
and immediately the eyes of all in the restaurant 
were turned in their direction. 

The young man of twenty-two, who was just 
emerging from the sweet, divine inspirations of 
Inexperienced youth, soon, alas ! to plunge into 
the dark, crabbed selfishness of manhood, flushed 
with pleasure, as Dolly’s glance swept toward 
him and (as he deluded himself into believing) 
for a moment rested on him. He had evidently 


Odd Types 


165 


been taught at home that even to look at such 
creatures would contaminate his soul; for, from 
time to time, as his curiosity got the better of 
his scruples, instead of gazing boldly at her, he 
would raise his eyes furtively and steal a glance. 
At another table not far from that of the young 
man sat a middle-aged gentleman, having oppo- 
site him a squint-eyed woman with a generous 
number of moles on her face, and the seams of 
her skin well caulked with powder. The woman 
was his wife. In years gone by, this gentleman 
had entered into wedlock with the woman for 
the goodly bribe of a hundred thousand dollars. 
More experienced in the ways of the world than 
the youth, though his heart fluttered at the 
recollections of former days which Dolly's ap- 
pearance had aroused, his face wore such an ex- 
pression of stolidity that no one suspected what 
impression the sight had made on him. At still 
another table — but why multiply these examples 
of hypocrisy? Doubtless this youth, and that 
middle-aged man, and the dozen other hypocrites 
who appeared so utterly to disdain this tainted 
beauty would, if they had felt assured that the 
world was not looking on, have lost no time in 
flinging themselves at her feet and admiring her. 
What noble humanity ! What an elevating spec- 
tacle ! What remarkable stoicism we of the twen- 
tieth century possess! Let a woman once be 
forced by circumstances to enter the arena of 
moral pollution and be conquered by the power- 
ful attacks of vice, and there is hardly a man 
among us who will raise a finger in her defence. 
Like the Romans of old, we sit idly by and view 


1 66 


Odd Types 


the contest wtih indifiference, nay, some of us 
even with pleasure, and when finally the fair one 
is overwhelmed and raises her arm appealingly, 
begging for mercy, we coldly avert our faces, 
turn down our thumbs, and decree — death. 

There are, perhaps, a few at times who feel a 
twinge of pity for the fallen one, but in most in- 
stances they are too cowardly and have too great 
a fear of their neighbor's condemnation to 
show it. 

Not so, however. Gloom. To be sure, from 
such a misanthrope one can expect almost any- 
thing. Think of it, reader, this deluded man 
had the asinine folly to imagine that he could yet 
save that depraved girl from ruin! If once he 
could get her away from the seductive tempta- 
tions that environed her, and could bring her 
wholly under his own influence, he believed he 
could reform her. At least, he said to himself 
there is nothing like trying. And then, if he did 
succeed, what a triumph it would be over the 
world at large, which he hated with such in- 
tensity. 

So, having hastily finished his meal, paid the 
reckoning and fulfilled to the utmost the expec- 
tations of the sycophantic waiter. Gloom made 
his way toward her. At the moment, being en- 
gaged in witty badinage with her companions and 
exciting their laughter with the ultra-cynicism of 
her remarks, she did not observe Gloom's ap- 
approach, nor was she aware of his presence un- 
til he was right before her. But as she raised 
her eyes and saw his dark, sympathetic glance 
fixed on her intently, the sarcasm she was about 


Odd Types 


167 


to utter died on her lips and there spread over 
her features a peculiar shamefaced expression 
like that observed in criminals, not yet thoroughly 
hardened, when suddenly brought in the pres- 
ence of their judge. 

“I hope you will pardon me, Dolly,” began 
Gloom in gentle tones, 'Tor interrupting your 
happy little party, but,” he added, glancing at her 
two companions, 'T wish to see you on something 
very important and I think under the circum- 
stances, your friends,” the last word uttered with 
an extremely cutting accent, "will be courteous 
enough to excuse you.” Both men nodded as- 
sent, almost absentmindedly, and Dolly, as 
though under the influence of a will stronger 
than her own, hastily arose and made her way 
forward. 

"Good-bye, boys!” she said jauntily, "enjoy 
yourselves,” and passing her arm in a familiar 
way under Gloom’s, proceeded to walk out with 
him. 

Her late companions, dazed at the suddenness 
of the whole proceeding, watched her for a time 
in amazed silence. 

"That’s cool,” remorked one of them at length, 
recovering himself. "I wonder who the old 
buck is, anyhow?” 

"Some former flame of hers, I suppose,” an- 
sewered the other. "That’s the way with these 
girls. They always go where they think there’s 
the most money.” 

As Gloom and Dolly passed through the door- 
way they happened to jostle aginst a stoutish 
woman and a young lady who were about to en- 


i68 


Odd Types 


ter, both of whom, on glancing at Gloom and his 
companion, gave vent to a gasp of surprise. 

"‘Dear me, ma/' exclaimed Minerva, as they 
seated themselves at a table, “did you see that 
man’s face?” 

“I did,” replied Mrs. Shoddy, compressing her 
lips in a way she had whenever she found a 
suspicion of hers verified. 

“Was it not strangely like Mr. Phil Gloom’s?” 

“It was Mr. Phil Gloom’s,” returned Mrs. 
Shoddy with great positiveness. 

“But who was the woman?” 

“The woman,” rejoined Mrs. Shoddy impres- 
sively, “the woman was a person that respect- 
able folks wouldn’t have anything to do with.” 

“But Mr. Gloom is certainly respectable, ma.” 

“Pretends to be. Nervy,” corrected her 
mother. “Pretends to be. I’m not surprised, 
though. I’ve always found that people who look 
down on others, usually don’t amount to much 
themselves. I can see now why Mr. Gloom don’t 
like to have people come to his house. He’s 
afraid, doubtless, that they’ll find out his true 
character. What an awful life his poor wife 
must lead !” 

“You don’t think he ill-treats her, do you, 
ma?” 

“He doesn’t beat her, if that’s what you mean. 
But he does far worse ; he neglects and deceives 
her. What we’ve seen to-night proves that.” 

“Do you think, poor Mrs. Gloom has any 
knowledge of this?” queried Minerva sympa- 
thetically. 

“I can’t say, Nervy,” replied Mrs* Shoddy, her 


Odd Types 


169. 


words tingling with virtuous indignation. ^‘How- 
ever, if she hasn’t, we must let other people en- 
lighten her. It’s none of our business, and so 
we musn’t meddle in it.” After this sage, world- 
ly observation both ladies set themselves to work 
demolishing the modest meal placed before them. 

Meanwhile Gloom and Dolly having gained the 
sidewalk, were on the point of turning their steps 
northward when the same beggar who had ac- 
costed Gloom earlier in the evening, blocked their 
way. 

‘Won’t you please help a poor blind man?” 
he whined. 

Dolly stopped, and opened her purse. 

“Don’t give that fellow anything,” interposed 
Gloom, “he’s nothing but a humbug.” 

“Oh, sir,” whimpered the beggar, not recog- 
nizing Gloom in the darkness, “surely my misery 
is great enough without ” 

“Never mind, now, never mind,” said Dolly 
soothingly, as she dropped a coin in his hand. 
“If you are a humbug you only differ from the 
rest of the world in being less lucky.” Then she 
rejoined Gloom. 

“Now I see, Dolly,” remarked Gloom, as they 
resumed their walk, “why you have been so un- 
fortunate.” 

“You do? Well, then, you’ve accomplished 
more than ever I could,” said Dolly quickly. 

“It’s because your warmness of heart clouds 
your sense of discrimination.” 

“Dear me, whatever do you mean?” 

“I mean,” continued Gloom, “that you are too 
guileless, and wear your affections on your sleeve. 


T70 


Odd Types 


Hence the human ravens, of whom the world 5s 
full, peck at your unguarded innocence until it 
is so covered with ugly marks and bears such a 
close resemblance to sin that the unthinking be- 
lieve it was never anything else.” 

‘‘The ravens?” Who are they?” asked Dolly 
innocently. 

‘‘It is hardly necessary to give a definition,” 
said Gloom, with a show of irritation. “Those 
two young men weVe just left are good enough 
examples.” 

“Oh,” said Dolly banteringly, “you say that 
as if you didn’t like them.” 

“Nor do I,” responded Gloom. “Nor would 
you if you could look into their hearts.” 

“Hearts ! I didn’t know there were such things 
any more,” rejoined Dolly, breaking out into a 
harsh laugh. 

Just then they reached the corner of a street, 
considerably darker than that they had prev- 
iously passed, and Dolly stopped. 

“Where are we going?” she asked. 

“To your home, of course,” replied Gloom. 

“Home?” repeated Dolly, with a wistful long- 
ing in her tones. “Do you mean where I sleep ?’^ 

“Yes. Is it far from here?” 

“No. It’s in the next block. But and 

Dolly hesitated. 

“But what?” queried Gloom. 

“Aren’t you afraid ?” 

“Afraid?” 

“Yes,” answered Dolly with a slight sneen 
“Afraid.” 

“Why?” 


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171 


*^oi\ might be seen.” 

‘‘Well?” 

“And being a married man and respectable, the 
consequences might not be pleasant.” 

“As long as I am willing to take the chances,” 
replied Gloom, ‘‘I don’t see why you should 
trouble yourself.” 

“I do, just the same,” answered Dolly. “Un- 
like your respectable women, you see, I take no 
delight in other people’s misery. Suppose you 
tell me what you have to say as we walk along.” 

“No, Dolly,” objected Gloom, “that won’t do. 
I must talk to you where no one else can overhear 
us.” Dolly made a movement as though to 
remonstrate. “Indulge me in this, Dolly,” con- 
tinued Gloom. “I am asking it for your own 
good only.” 

“Very well,” answered Dolly, reluctantly, and, 
taking his arm, the walk was resumed. 

In a short time, they arrived at their destina- 
tion, and Dolly, going before, led Gloom up three 
flights of stairs, and ushered him into a small 
apartment of three rooms, rather bare of furni- 
ture, but with here and there an apparent effort 
to make them home-like. After apologizing for 
their appearance, Dolly begged Gloom to excuse 
her for a few moments so that she might change 
her dress, and left him alone. 

As Gloom looked around, and tried to conjure 
up what scenes those walls had witnessed, his 
heart smote him with pity. Well he knew that 
it had not all been laughter and gayety. Well 
he knew that many and many a time, that poor, 


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172 

girlish frame, had been racked with sobs, and 
those defiant eyes had been filled with bitter 
tears. Well he knew — but why go further? 
These things are not pleasant to think of, or write 
about, and perhaps had best not be mentioned at 
all. Besides, the author fears he has already 
gone too far, and unintentionally has perchance 
shocked the sense of propriety of some one of 
his readers. Suffice it to say, then, that when 
Dolly reappeared. Gloom in a few words dis- 
closed to her the plan he had formed for her 
reformation. At first, he found her obdurate, 
not because she liked the life she led, but because 
she was frightened by the recollection of the dis- 
astrous results of her former efforts. In the 
end, however, he succeeded in persuading Dolly 
to take his view of the matter, especially when he 
intimated that, as far as money was concerned, 
she should never want. 

‘'And so,'' said Dolly, laughingly, but with a 
ring of sarcasm in her voice, “you wish me to 
become a real, goody-goody, little girl, eh ?" 
Gloom nodded. “I don’t see," she added, with 
refreshing frankness, “what benefit that'll be to 
you ?" 

“That's my affair," answered Gloom, quietly. 

“But if I make such an agreement, what as- 
surance have I that you'll carry out your part?" 

Gloom gave a start. 

“Is it possible, Dolly," he asked, sadly, “that 
you doubt my word?" 

“Hardly that," replied Dolly. “Of course," 
she added, again with that peculiar, harsh laugh 


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173 


of hers, “I know the world is so full of honor, that 
it’s very wrong in me to distrust any one; but 
then, that’s a fault I’ve acquired lately, and so 
you’ll have to pardon it. Indeed,^ I place my 
faith in only one thing, because it’s the only 
thing I have found absolutely reliable.” 

‘‘What is that?” asked Gloom. 

“Money,” said Dolly, with a smile as though 
she pitied his simplicity. 

Gloom gasped in astonishment. Here was a 
young woman, who certainly had never spent a 
tithe of the time he had in studying human 
nature, uttering the very same sentiments he him- 
self entertained. At the discovery, he felt rather 
elated than depressed; for, according to his cyn- 
ical philosophy, he now had a sure way of keep- 
ing Dolly faithful. If, at any time, he should 
discover her inclined to fall back into the old 
life, all he need do, would be to offer more 
money, and she would be held in check. 

Putting his hand in his pocket. Gloom pulled 
out a roll of bills and handed them to Dolly. 

“There,” said he; “that is an earnest of what 
is to come.” 

“Oh!” exclaimed Dolly, joyfully, fondling the 
bills with the same delight as a child does a new 
toy ; “now I know you’re sincere.” 

“Then it’s a bargain ?” said Gloom. 

“Here’s my hand on it,” answered Dolly, suit- 
ing the action to the words. “When am I to be^ 
gin?” 

“At once,” replied Gloom. 

“At once !” repeated Dolly in surprise. “Why, 
what do you want me to do 


Odd Types 


174 

"Put on your hat and cloak, and come with 
me. 

A half-hour later, Dolly and Gloom were on 
their way to the railway station. 


Odd Types 


175 


CHAPTER XI. 

MATTERS REMAIN IN STATU QUO. 

When Phil Gloom arrived home that night he 
found the whole house wrapped in slumber. 
Stealthily he made his way to his bedroom. As 
he passed Miranda’s door, he stopped a moment 
in hesitation; then, as though ashamed of his 
weakness, hastened forward with quickened step. 
Reaching his own apartment, he immediately 
went to bed. But not to sleep. For hours he 
lay there, reviewing the events of the day, and 
formulating his plans for the future. For the 
first time in many weeks, he experienced at in- 
tervals a feeling that might almost be termed 
pleasure; but it was never of long duration. 
For, as often as the warm glow of satisfaction 
would be on the point of breaking into flame, 
there would come over his mind the remem- 
brance of his unfortunate estrangement from his 
wife, and then the glow would dwindle, almost 
to extinction. Do what he would, he could not 
prevent his thoughts from frequently reverting 
to Miranda, and each time they did so, the tug- 
ging at his heart became more difficult to resist. 
Perverse man! Instead of being happy, he felt 
almost angry, at his inability to throw off her 


176 


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hold on his affections. On this night, more than 
ever before, he saw how deeply he loved her ; and 
yet the discovery, far from giving delight, tended 
rather to depress him. However, had he found 
himself out of love with his wife, it is doubtful 
whether he would have been any more cheerful. 
So infatuated, indeed, had he become with the 
mood of discontent and bitterness, that anything 
which threatened to destroy the excuse for its 
existence, filled him with dread. In short, he 
was as much attached to the dark aspects of life, 
as others to the light, and reveled in miserable 
misanthropy with the same gusto as others do in 
selfish happiness. He himself, to be sure, viewed 
these matters in an entirely different way. His 
hatred of mankind, he attributed to its depravity ; 
and his disinclination to become reconciled with 
his wife, he interpreted as the evidence of a 
strong will, and a noble self-respect. As he fell 
asleep, therefore, his resolve to maintain an ir- 
reconcilable attitude toward both, remained as 
strong as ever. 

The next morning. Gloom arose early. When 
he entered the dining-room, he was surprised to 
see the table laid for three. He inquired of the 
maid the reason, and she informed him that 
Felice had arrived the foregoing afternoon, and 
had remained over night. At the sound of that 
name, his heart for a moment felt as though 
some one had gripped it hard ; but why this was 
so, Gloom could not tell. He had hardly seated 
himself, when Miranda came in, followed a mo- 
ment afterward by Felice. He bade her good- 
morning very coldly, and she returned the salu- 


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177 


tation in similar manner. Felice hailed him with 
his usual, meretricious airiness, and Phil re- 
sponded with his customary, ill-natured grunt. 

During the course of the breakfast, as always, 
Felice rattled away good-naturedly in witty per- 
siflage, which often won a smile from Miranda, 
but not seldom evoked a bitter observation from 
Phil. 

‘‘Oh, come,’’ cried Felice, after one of Phil’s 
particularly dismal remarks; ‘‘cheer up. Be like 
me 

“Be like you!” sneered Gloom, interrupting. 
“That’s impossible. To be like you, I would 
have to be selfish and unsympathetic. Un- 
fortunately, Pm neither.” 

“If to laugh is to be selfish and unsympa- 
thetic,” replied Felice, smiling, “then I plead 
guilty to both charges. Surely, though, there is 
no harm in cheerfulness.” 

“Oh, don’t say that, Mr. Felice,” interposed 
Miranda, with quiet sarcasm. “Some people look 
upon it as a crime.” 

“It may not be a crime,” returned Phil, who 
felt that his wife’s remark had been aimed at him, 
“but if any man, in a world like this, where 
wretchedness is to happiness in the proportion of 
a million to one, where those that should have, 
have not, and those who should not have, have; 
where the innocent suffer, and the guilty pros- 
per — I say, if any man in such a world can go 
about with a light heart, he must have little re- 
gard for his fellows.” 

“But I don’t see, my dear friend,” rejoined 
Felice, “how a long face can mend matters/' 


178 


Odd Types 


'T never contended that/’ replied Phil. 

"'Besides/’ continued Felice, "you know the 
old saying: "Laugh, and the world laughs with 
you ; weep, and you weep alone/ ” 

""Very true,” remarked Phil, sarcastically, 
looking at the clock and suddenly rising. ""That’s 
the way of this beautiful world — ever stretching 
out its hands to the fortunate, and leaving the 
unfortunate to rot in solitude. "Bah,” he added, 
going toward the door, ""what a foul mass of sel- 
fishness it is ! And yet the preachers talk of an- 
other place as hell. Hell ! Let them look around 
them, and I’ll venture they’ll find blacker devils 
here than ever figured even in their feetid imag- 
inations.” 

""Present company excepted, I suppose,” said 
Felice, laughing. Phil shrugged his shoulders 
and proceeded toward the door. 

""Hold on, old man!” cried Felice; ""don’t de- 
sert us just yet.” 

''Desert r retorted Phil, bitterly. "Relieve, 
would doubtless more truthfully express your 
meaning,” and then, casting an angry glance at 
Miranda, he left the room. 

""Seems to be in exceptionally bad humor this 
morning,” said Felice, addressing Miranda, and 
nodding his head in the direction Phil had taken. 

""Exceptional!” replied Miranda, with a heavy 
sigh. ""Say, rather, usual.” 

""Oh, come/’ replied Felice, noting her de- 
pressed air; ""don’t you become infected, too. I’ll 
tell you what. Let us take a drive. That will 
scatter this black humor in a trice.” 

Acting on Felice’s suggestion, Miranda gave 


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179 


orders to have the carriage at the door in half an 
hour, and then went oif to dress, leaving Felice 
alone. 

‘"Strange,” mused Felice, “she grows more 
beautiful every day, and, I actually believe, Fm 
falling in love with her. Phil is a fool to throw 
away such a treasure. If only she weren’t so 
confounded particular, Fd make headway faster. 
Just the same, Fm going to try again. She can’t 
care much for a husband that acts as Phil does, 
and, sooner or later, she must succumb. Well,” 
he concluded, “she’s worth trying, and waiting, 
for.” 

A few minutes afterward, this honorable young 
man was chatting with his intended victim as in- 
nocently as though an unmanly thought had 
never entered his brain. For two hours they 
drove about, and then returned home. Miranda, 
upon inquiring for' her husband, was informed by 
the servants that he had left word, that no meals 
were to be kept waiting for him. Late that 
afternoon, Phil still being absent, Felice, fear- 
ing lest a longer stay might arouse suspicion, 
took his departure. 

For a week thereafter, no one called, and 
Miranda, who only saw Phil at breakfast and 
supper, and then merely exchanged a few com- 
monplace remarks with him, began to be ex- 
tremely bored. She felt as though she would 
burst, if matters did not soon take a different 
turn. She was ready, indeed, to welcome any- 
thing that gave promise of a diversion. While 
in this mood, Felice again came upon the scene. 
So grateful was she for his appearance that in 


i8o 


Odd Types 


her greeting she exhibited considerably more 
warmth than usual. Felice noted the change in- 
stantly, and at once his foul hopes mounted sky- 
ward. 

Again they drove out together, laughing and 
happy in each other's company; again they re- 
turned to the house, only to find Phil, who had 
been away since morning, still absent, and again 
Felice departed, seeming to Miranda to take all 
the sunshine with him, and leaving her depressed 
and out of sorts. 

Such days as these, in the following six weeks, 
were occasionally repeated, and, for Miranda, 
broke for a time the heavy pall that appeared to 
hang over her. Phil's absences from home now 
became more and more frequent. What was the 
cause of them, Miranda could not possibly con- 
jecture; but, anxious as she was to know, she 
felt too proud to ask, and as Phil offered no 
explanation, she was left entirely in the dark. 
Had she inquired of some of her acquaintances 
or neighbors, she might perhaps have learned the 
reason; but she felt that such inquiry would ex- 
pose to the world the unhappy differences exist- 
ing between her husband and herself, and there- 
fore refrained. 

However, her worthy neighbors, as always, 
soon noticed these mysterious peregrinations of 
Phil, and were not slow in attributing to them 
all sorts of evil motives. They found — at least, 
such of them as followed him (accidentally, as 
they said) — that he always took the same road, 
and that that road led to a little frame house 
on the outskirt3 of the village. He was never 


Odd Types 


i8i 

seen on the highway beyond that house, and 
though no one actually saw him enter it, all the 
circumstances pointed to the conclusion that it 
was his invariable destination. 

In a short time, this supposition, by Phil's own 
acts, became a reality; for, one day, to the sur- 
prise of the villagers, Phil Gloom appeared in 
the town with Dolly Dash leaning on his arm. 
At first, they were inclined to sneer at Dolly, but 
gradually, as they observed the vast change in 
her, and noted the indifference with which both 
she and Phil treated their obvious expressions of 
surprise, they began, in spite of themselves, to 
feel a vague sort of respect for her. When these 
promenades had been repeated several times, the 
gossips, of course, started wagging their tongues, 
and soon all sorts of rumors, all of them deroga- 
tory to Phil, began flying about the village. Some 
professed to have heard that Phil and his wife 
had quarreled, and that, in order to terminate 
their unhappy union, he had agreed with Mi- 
randa to give her grounds for divorce. Others 
claimed that Phil was merely falling into a 
former infatuation, which for a time had been 
broken off by his marriage. Still others asserted 
that he was now doing openly what he had been 
long practicing in secret, and so on. To be sure, 
all these opinions were aired behind his back. 
To his face, every one was as cordial and pleas- 
ant as ever. As a matter of fact, though, all 
these suppositions were wrong. Phil Gloom was 
really doing a noble deed. He was bringing back 
a straying soul to the path of rectitude. His 
success thus far had so inspirited him that he 


Odd Types 


182 

was almost cheerful — at least, as cheerful as one 
of his pessimistic nature could be. The reason 
of his delight, however, was not so much the 
reclamation of Dolly, as it was the belief that, 
through her reformation, he had cheated society 
of a victim. 

At first, Dolly was unscrupulous, and made 
constant demands upon him for money. But as 
time passed on, and she observed Phil’s attitude 
toward her continue unchanged, the better nature 
within her gradually awakened, and she finally 
came to view Phil in the light of a saviour. 
Their relations with one another were as pure as 
those of parent and child. Don’t sneer, dear 
reader. It may be true, that such things do not 
occur in real life; but as the author has before 
had occasion to remind you, this is fiction. Be- 
sides, it is not probable that you would care to 
join the ranks of their detractors. They had 
enough of them already, goodness knows ! Like 
all detractors, too, they attributed the association 
of Phil and Dolly to the lowest of motives. Dear, 
loving fellow creatures! How was it possible 
for them to ascribe pure thoughts to others, when 
they had none themselves I 

Meanwhile, Miranda remained in profound 
ignorance of the whole affair. There seemed to 
be a tacit understanding among those who knew 
of it, that she was not to be told. And though 
all were itching to inform her, and, at times, 
when some of the less tactful met her, they hinted 
at it, in a dark, mysterious way, yet it never went 
further. Each seemed to fear the other’s disap- 
proval; and then, too, perhaps, they might after 


Odd Types 


183 


all find themselves mistaken. At least, so they 
said aloud, though deep doWn in their hearts, 
they hoped, and believed the contrary. 

In this manner, another two months passed 
away. Miranda had by this time become quite 
accustomed to Phibs absences, and had on several 
occasions broken the monotonous solitude by 
giving entertainments at her house to her friends. 
These parties were attended, among others, by 
Mrs. Shoddy and her daughter, Minerva; by Mr. 
Demos, Mr. Joe Gloom, and Emma ; by Grab, 
and last, but not least, by Brief and Felice. As 
Miranda no longer discussed her plans with her 
husband, it sometimes happened that when Phil 
would return to his house in the evening, he 
would be surprised to find it brilliantly illumi- 
nated, and in the possession of his wife’s guests. 
In his irritation, then, he would greet these 
guests with scant courtesy, and not infrequently 
get into an altercation with Miranda herself. 
But the guests, from the numerous repetitions of 
these scenes, had become so accustomed to them, 
that they passed them by with indifference, espe- 
cially as Miranda’s amiability would always be 
redoubled to compensate for Phil’s rudeness, and 
more particularly, because they disliked the idea 
of missing the really excellent repasts which Mi- 
randa invariably served up to them. Then, too, 
most of the guests had axes of their own to 
grind, for which these gatherings gave most fa- 
vorable opportunities. Here, Brief could whisper 
sweet nothings to Minerva, and Mrs. Shoddy 
could ogle coquettishly with Mr. Demos. Here, 
Felice could display his rare entertaining powers 


Odd Types 


184 

to advantage, and impress Miranda with the 
charms of his personality, and their superiority 
over those of Phil. Here, Joe and Emma could 
dog poor Phil to their hearts' content, and din in 
his ears what an unkind brother he was ; how 
wrong it was of him to live in luxury, while Joe 
had to labor so hard for a scant living; and to 
attribute Phil's sending Joe a check, or any other 
intended kindness on his part, to a desire further 
to humiliate them. Here, also. Grab never failed 
to carry off at least one trinket to add to his 
collection of curios. 

Strange as it may seem, though all of them, 
except Felice, knew of Phil's escapade (as they 
were pleased to call it), not one so much as 
hinted of their knowledge to Miranda. This 
suppression, however, on their part, was not 
prompted by any desire to spare Miranda, or 
shield Phil. It was really due to a selfish regard 
for their own interests. Minerva and her mother 
refrained from making the disclosure, for the 
very excellent reasons already so admirably 
stated by Mrs. Shoddy. Demos refrained, be- 
cause his political experience taught him that di- 
vision among friends never did him any good. 
Brief refrained, because he did not wish to lose 
Phil's patronage, and because he feared people 
might say he had brought about a divorce for 
his own profit. Grab refrained, because he knew 
that an open rupture between Phil and his wife 
would bar forever further opportunities to se- 
cure any more articles of virtu. Emma and her 
husband, after a discussion of the matter en 
famUk, refrained, because they feared Pbil'3 in- 


Odd Types 


185 


suits, in the way of remittances, might thereby 
come to an untimely end. Felice could hardly 
be said to refrain, because, as already stated, he 
was ignorant of the whole affair. This was not 
to be wondered at. For, whenever he came to 
town, he proceeded straight from the depot to 
Miranda’s house, and consequently knew none 
of the villagers, except such as he chanced to 
meet at Miranda’s gatherings. 

So, for a time, matters remained ‘‘in statu 

99 


i86 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER XII. 

SOME OF THE TYPES BESTIR THEMSELVES. 

Like most mortals, Phil Gloom was not con- 
tent with leaving well-enough alone. Having 
brought Dolly to a point where it was reasonably 
certain that she would not again lapse into her 
former mode of life, he immediately cast about 
him for ways and means of further rehabilitating 
her respectability. The first thing that suggested 
itself was marriage. Ah ! here was another 
chance for him to give a slap at society. He 
would marry her, and marry her, to her betrayer. 
But who was this gentleman, her betrayer? Nat- 
urally, the only person who could give him that 
information was Dolly herself. But the question 
was, would she? Judging from his past experi- 
ences, Phil had little reason to hope so; for he 
had noticed that, though she frankly responded 
to all his other queries, yet the moment he 
touched upon her past life, she at once became 
evasive, or silent. In doubt, therefore, how best 
to proceed, he concluded to call to his assistance 
his lawyer. 

Accordingly, one day, after one more unsuc- 
cessful attempt to induce Dolly to make the dis- 
closure, Phil Gloom sent a dispatch to Brief to 


Odd Types 


187 


come to him on the earliest train, the following 
morning. In that inscrutable way which events 
have of combining to bring about a climax, it 
chanced that, on the afternoon previous to that 
very day, Felice had arrived on one of his period- 
ical visits. When, therefore, Phil the next morn- 
ing entered the dining-room, he found the latter 
already seated in his customary place at the table. 
As usual, Felice pretended to have called be- 
cause, as he expressed it, he could not remain 
long away from his dear friend Phil, without 
feeling lonesome; and then, again as usual, at 
the first opportunity, he deserted Phil, and fol- 
lowed Miranda. Being a strictly moral man him- 
self, Phil never for a moment thought of con- 
necting Felice’s constant attendance on Miranda 
with anything wrong; and so, occupied with his 
own plans, he took little notice of these defec- 
tions at any time, and on this particular morn- 
ing, not only felt no resentment towards Felice, 
but even heaved a sigh of relief when he saw 
him and Miranda drive away from the house in 
the carriage. 

‘‘Good!” muttered Phil. “Now, Brief and I 
will have at least two hours to ourselves, free 
from interruption.” Then, consulting his watch, 
and finding that another half hour must elapse 
before Brief would arrive, he retired to his 
library to spend the interim in reading. 

The dispatch which Phil had sent to Brief, had 
reached that young man’s office just as he was 
on the point of leaving for the day. Though 
there was nothing in the message different from 
a number of others that Brief had received from 


Odd Types 


isa 

the same source, yet somehow, as he read it, he 
had a foreboding that this was the beginning of 
a serious turn in the affairs of his friend. Gloom. 
He had often been on the verge of disclosing to 
his client, the ugly rumors afloat regarding the 
latter’s relations with Dolly, but something had 
always intervened to prevent him. When, how- 
ever, he received this dispatch, which, unlike the 
others, asked him to call in the morning instead 
of the evening. Brief believed that the oppor- 
tunity he had been waiting for had come. And 
he determined, if his surmise proved correct, to 
hint delicately to Phil that it would be wise in 
him to let Dolly severely alone. Of course, very 
much would depend upon how Phil Gloom ac- 
cepted his hints. If he should appear not to 
take them in good part. Brief made up his mind 
not to press matters; for Phil Gloom was alto- 
gether too good a client to lose, and Brief felt 
that it would be the heighth of folly to alienate 
so valuable a friend merely for the sake of pre- 
venting a scandal. 

In the meantime, Miranda and Felice were en- 
joying their ride to the full. Out- of caprice, or 
perhaps under the influence of a preordained des- 
tiny, Miranda had ordered the coachman to go 
in an entirely different direction from any they 
had heretofore taken. In fact, they were riding 
(though without knowing it) along the very 
highway which led past Dolly Dash’s home. The 
fine weather, and the brightness of everything 
about them, seemed to put Felice in excep- 
tionally high spirits, and, as they rode along, he 
commented in his usual optimistic vein upon the 


Odd Types 


189 


numberless pleasures this life afforded, and the 
folly of allowing any opportunity of enjoying 
them to escape us. 

‘‘How any man, with so many delights at every 
hand,’' said he, “can be low-spirited, is beyond 
me.” 

Miranda fully understood that this remark was 
a thrust at her husband, but she made no reply. 

“Why,” continued Felice, “it seems to me al- 
most a sacrilege not to be merry. It certainly is 
unnatural, and whenever I see a man of that 
sort, I can’t help suspecting that his pessimism 
is assumed, and pure affectation.” 

“May he not think the same of your cheerful- 
ness?” remarked Miranda. 

“Perhaps,” answered Felice, with seeming 
carelessness; “but my cheerfulness, at least, is 
harmless, and makes no one unhappy.” 

Miranda gave a start, and as her companion 
looked up at her, he saw tears in her eyes. This 
was a chance which so adroit a seducer of women 
as Felice would not let go by without making 
the most of. Pretending, therefore, not to have 
observed the effect of his last words, he went on : 
“That is why, as I have often said, these pessi- 
mists ought to be expelled from society. It 
would all be very well if they made only them- 
selves miserable, but in many cases they cause 
unhappiness to others. That is where the un- 
endurable part of it comes in. If I were a 
woman, and had a husband like that, I’d certainly 
let no false sense of duty prevent me from leav- 
ing him, especially if he neglected me, as I’ve 
seen some husbands ” 


1^6 Odd Types 

“Mr. Felice,” interrupted Miranda, rather 
haughtily. 

“Pardon me,” continued Felice, with an excel- 
lent show of deep feeling. “I may be wrong in 
expressing myself so frankly ; but when I behold 
a beautiful, loyal woman treated with such in- 
difference and neglect as in the case I have in 
mind, my indignation gets the better of my dis- 
cretion, and I can’t help speaking with harsh- 
ness, even of a dear friend.” 

Though Miranda felt that Felice was right, 
yet it seemed to her that she alone had the privi- 
lege to condemn her husband, and, womanlike, 
when she heard him assailed by another, she 
sprang at once to his defense. 

“I understand your allusion,” she responded, 
with considerable warmth; “but you are wrong 
— utterly wrong.” 

“If that is so,” answered Felice, with a smile, 
“then there are a great many others to bear me 
company.” 

“A great many others?” repeated Miranda, a 
look of dismay spreading over her face. 

“Yes,” reiterated Felice, “a great many 
others.” Then, appearing for the first time to 
observe his companion’s distress, he added hast- 
ily: “But I see the subject is painful. Let us 
drop it.” 

“No, my dear friend — at least,” said Miranda, 
interrupting herself, “I believe you to be my 
friend — let us go to the end of this. I see you 
wish to say something to me, and dislike to 
express yourself freely for fear of offending me. 
Go on; 1 give you full permission.” 


Odd Types 


191 

Here at last was the chance for which Felice 
had been angling. 

'‘You are right. I have something to say to 
you ; but before I say it, I wish you to assure me 
that you will impute what I say to friendship 
only.’^ 

^ 'T would not listen, if I thought otherwise,’’ 
said Miranda. 

“Well, then,” replied Felice, with a smile, “I’ll 
plunge at once in medias res. Like many others, 
I have noticed your husband’s conduct toward 
you with pain. As long, however, as he con- 
fined himself to grumbling merely, I felt that I 
had no right to interfere. But lately, when I 
have seen him absent himself, day after day, 
without apparent cause, I confess, it has given 
me, as well as others, grounds for grave sus- 
picion. It seems to me that you, as his wife, 
have a right to ask him — in fact, ought to ask 
him — for an explanation.” 

“An explanation ! Oh, no,” exclaimed Mi- 
randa, energetically, “I would never lower my- 
self so far.” 

“Perhaps, you know the reason, then?” 

“To be frank with you, I do not.” 

“You have no suspicion?” 

“Not the slightest.” 

“Do you wish to know what I believe to be the 
cause ?” 

“What?” asked Miranda, glancing up. 

“Some other woman,” replied Felice, bluntly. 

Miranda smiled. 

“That remark shows how very little you know 
Phil’s character,” said she. “True, I am wholly 


i9a 


Odd Types 


ignorant of the cause of his preoccupation, but I 
feel quite confident it is not a woman/^ 

‘‘Well,’’ remarked Felice, shrugging his shoul- 
ders, “I hope I’m wrong; but I fear. I’m right.” 

At this moment, the carriage arrived at a point 
opposite to the house occupied by Dolly. 

“What an ideal spot,” exclaimed Felice, “for 
seclusion !” 

“ ’Tis so, indeed,” responded Miranda. “And 
how prettily those trees set off the house!” 

“Admirably. It doesn’t seem to be inhabited, 
though,” remarked Felice, giving the house a 
closer look. 

“Oh, it must be,” said Miranda; “otherwise 
everything wouldn’t be so fresh and tidy. 
There!” she exclaimed, suddenly; “I just saw one 
of the curtains move.” 

Miranda was right. One of the curtains had 
moved, and the hand that moved it was Dolly’s. 

That morning, Dolly, as usual, after having at- 
tended to the few household duties which re- 
quired her care, had seated herself at one of the 
upper windows, and, book in hand, was dividing 
her time between reading, and gazing abstracted- 
ly out at the landscape. The girl that sat there 
at this time was a far different person from the 
Dolly Dash w’^ho had flaunted it so boldly in the 
gay circles of New York. Her former pertness 
was gone, and in its place was a sweet air of de- 
mureness that well became the infantile ex- 
pression of the face. Her features, too, showed 
some wonderful changes, and the hard set lines 
of former days had wholly disappeared. In 


Odd Types 


^93 

fact, the pose of the body betokened absolute con- 
tentment and peace of mind. 

In the midst of her reflections, as her eyes 
drank in the pleasant blue of the sky and the 
deep green of the trees, there came to her ears 
the grating of wheels. It was such an unusual 
sound out there, that her curiosity was piqued, 
and almost involuntarily she drew aside the cur- 
tain, to obtain a better view. Then it was that 
the carriage containing Felice and Miranda 
rolled by. Dolly gave a single glance, and 
dropped the curtain hurriedly. On the instant, 
she had recognized in one of the occupants the 
man who had caused her ruin, and in one fell 
swoop the whole dark past, with its terrible ex- 
periences, came back to her. 

Once more her memory retraced, step by step, 
the sweet joy of her first meeting with Felice, 
the great delight of the several months that fol- 
lowed, the ecstacy at the birth of her. child, the 
grief at its death, the bitter anguish occasioned 
by Felice’s abandonment of her, the fearful ef- 
forts she had made to conceal her misery, and, 
through it all, the utter callousness of her be- 
trayer. Surely, his crime was as great as hers. 
Yet here she sat, despised, while him the world 
received with open arms. This thought seemed 
to madden her, and almost to shatter her recent 
calmness. Why not seek revenge? Why not 
thwart him? Why remain inactive, with folded 
hands, and let him work his own sweet will with- 
out hindrance? ''Oh!” she exclaimed, starting 
up and beginning to pace the floor with much of 
her old-time restlessness ; "it is wrong — all 


194 


Odd Types 


wrong. I have been made to suffer; then, why 
not he?’’ This question, she repeated to herself 
several times, and, finally, her feelings further 
wrought up by the remembrance of his cruel 
conduct toward her, in a state of high excite- 
ment she raised her clenched hand aloft, and 
swore she’d have revenge. 

Her submissive manner was all gone now, and 
she was once more like the Dolly of old. Her 
nimble mind, filled with its new purpose, so sud- 
denly conceived, immediately began devising 
plans for its execution. Naturally, the first 
question which occurred to her was: ‘‘Who was 
the woman with him?” For a time, no answer 
suggested itself. Then suddenly, like a flash, 
came the thought: “Phil Gloom’s wife.” 

Though Dolly had mingled little with the vil- 
lage folk, yet even she had heard numerous ru- 
mors about Miranda and Felice. She had given 
little heed to them at the time of their utterance, 
but, now that her interest in Felice was reawak- 
ened, they all recurred to her with wonderful dis- 
tinctness. No, she could not be mistaken. This 
was no other than Phil Gloom’s wife. And what, 
she asked herself, was the purpose of Felice’s 
constant attention to her? Ah, nothing else, no 
doubt, than to lead her astray, as he had done 
many another. “This time, however,” muttered 
Dolly, gritting her teeth, “he’ll not succeed.” No, 
cost what it niight, Dolly resolved that she would 
thwart him. At first, she was at a loss how lo 
go about it ; but gradually, as the confused ideas 
arranged themselves in order, her active little 
brain evolved a plan. It would bring misery on 


Odd Types 


19s 


herself, perhaps; but she cared nothing for that, 
so long as she succeeded in wreaking vengeance 
on FelicCj and at the same time saving the wife 
of her truest friend from ruin. 

Dolly looked at the clock, and noted that this 
was about the hour when Gloom usually paid her 
a visit. Impatiently she waited for his appear- 
ance, and, to make the time seem shorter, pro- 
ceeded to enjoy in advance Felice’s discomfiture. 
When Gloom again broached the matter of her 
betrayer’s name, as she felt sure he would, she 
resolved to disclose it without hesitation. Then 
she would pretend still to love Felice, and thus 
enlist Gloom’s assistance in bringing them to- 
gether. Oh, how humble, how affectionate, how 
suppliant, she would be, to ensnare this man, 
whom she now hated so intensely, into marrying 
her. But, once married — oh ! what a fearful ven- 
geance she would wreak on him! How she 
would taunt him with the past ! Flow she would 
humiliate him, and drag him down from the high 
pedestal of the world’s esteem — wreck him, body 
and soul; destroy him utterly; make his life a 
perfect hell, and do a thousand-and-one other 
direful things to satisfy the intense thirst for re- 
taliation that burned within her ! 

Let us leave this poor, scorned woman to her 
bitter thoughts — thoughts which the reader, 
never exposed to the buffets of misfortune, 
doubtless considers unreasonable and sinful — and 
return to Phil Gloom. 

Miranda and Felice had been gone about twen- 
ty minutes, when Gloom, who was becoming 
somewhat impatient, was gratified by hearing his 


196 


Odd Types 


name mentioned in the hall below, by the well- 
known voice of Brief. A moment afterward, 
that gentleman presented himself at the library 
door. He found Gloom seated in an arm-chair, 
the book he had been reading laid aside, and evi- 
dently in a very depressed mood. 

‘'Sit down,’’ said Gloom, shortly. Brief obeyed, 
at the same time looking at him inquiringly. “I 
suppose,’’ continued Gloom, “you were some- 
what surprised that I should ask you to call in 
the morning.” 

“I was — somewhat,” replied Brief ; “but, like a 
good lawyer, whenever I am summoned, I put 
in an appearance.” 

Brief said this, without any change of counte- 
nance, but with a sly twinkle in his eye. He saw 
that Gloom was out of humor, and thought his 
play on words might amuse him. But it did not. 
Without apparently .having noticed Brief’s effort 
at punning, Gloom resumed : 

“I have sent for you. Brief, to help me ferret a 
secret out of a woman.” 

“You certainly don’t refer to your wife, do 
you?” queried the lawyer. 

“No — no,” exclaimed Gloom, impatiently. 

“I hope,” continued Brief, “Mrs. Gloom is 
well ?” 

“Oh, yes — ^yes — and, what is better still, she 
has gone out riding, and thus leaves us a free 
field.” 

“Oh,” remarked Brief, as if chagrined, and 
with the presumable intention of appearing gal- 
lant, but really to confirm a suspicion he had, “I 
am afraid you have foregone the pleasure of ac- 


Odd Types 


197 

companying her on account of this appointment 
with me. I am really sorry, if ” 

‘'Not at all,"' interrupted Gloom. Then he 
added, bitterly: “She has a far more pleasant 
companion. I’m sure, than I can ever be.” 

“Oh, you’re too modest,” returned Brief, smil- 
ing. “Besides, I don’t believe Mrs. Gloom thinks 
that.” 

“I’m not so certain that she doesn’t. If one 
may judge from appearances, Mr. Felice seems 
to amuse her very much. However, that is 
neither here nor there. Let us get down to busi- 
ness.” 

“I am ready for the charge, Mr. Gloom,” said 
Brief, with his usual habit of interlarding his 
conversation with legal terms. 

“Well, then, you have heard me speak of Dolly 
Dash, have you not?” Brief nodded. “And you 
know what an interest I have taken in the girl?” 

“Yes,” said Brief, in a timid tone, as though 
fearful of the effect of his boldness; “a strange 
interest.” 

“A strange interest?” repeated Gloom, scowl- 
ing. “I see nothing strange about it.” 

“My dear Mr. Gloom, you may not ; but others 
do,” answered Brief, emboldened by the calm 
manner in which his previous reply had been 
received. “In fact, already people’s tongues are 
wagging most uncharitably.” 

“Hm ! Indeed !” cried Gloom, fiercely, spring- 
ing to his feet. “And what do you suppose I 
care if they do?” 

“Nothing, perhaps,” returned Brief, with a 
shrug of his shoulders. “But,” he queried, “sup- 


198 Odd Types 

pose these tales should reach your wife’s ears— 
what then?’^ 

‘'My pure motives would clear me/’ answered 
Gloom, loftily. 

"Motives ?” repeated Brief. "I don’t quite un- 
derstand.” 

"Of course not,” retorted Gloom, pettishly. 
"Like the rest of the world, you always incline 
to put the blackest interpretation on your neigh- 
bor’s acts.” 

"Oh, Mr. Gloom,” rejoined Brief, "you wrong 
me exceedingly. I personally know very well 
that your motives are the very best ; but you must 
remember that others, not as well acquainted 
with you as I, naturally judge from appearances 
only. When, therefore, they see a married man, 
devoting so much of his time to a woman of 
Dolly Dash’s position ” 

"Stop! — stop right there!” cried Gloom, heat- 
edly. "Who put her in that position?” 

"How should I know?” 

"I’ll tell you. Brief,” continued Gloom, with 
rising agitation. "It was a reptile — a reptile, in 
the guise of a man. He led this poor girl astray, 
and then abandoned her. Dolly Dash is nothing 
worse than the victim of man’s viciousness ; and 
the world — the cold, unjust world — as usual, 
instead of aiding the victim, and punishing her 
betrayer, has aided the betrayer, and is trying to 
press the victim deeper into the mire. But,” he 
added, excitedly, "the world shall not succeed! 
I — I — Brief — will prevent it. I will save that 
girl to spite society.” 


Odd Types 


199 

"I Hope, she’ll prove worthy of your efforts,” 
remarked Brief in a skeptical tone. 

'T know she will.” Brief shrugged his shoul- 
ders. ''Ah, I see you are prejudiced. You have 
not heard her story.’’ 

"I needn’t,” answered Brief. "I have no 
doubt, it is the same tale of injured innocence 
that we hear so often from the women of her 
class, and ” 

"And,” interrupted Gloom, "in nine cases out 
of ten, it is true.” 

"For the sake of humanity, I hope not,” re- 
joined Brief. 

"If by humanity,” returned Gloom, "you mean 
the human race, it’s a misnomer.” 

"I’m afraid,” said Brief, not desiring to enter 
into an argument with Gloom, "we’re wander- 
ing from the issue. What is it, you wish me to 
do?” 

"To do?” echoed Gloom. "I want you to ac- 
company me, see this young woman, and, if pos- 
sible ” 

"But,” interrupted Brief, with an expression 
of countenance that clearly indicated his dislike 
of the proposition, "I am merely a lawyer, Mr. 
Gloom, and ” 

"Oh, you’ll be well paid for it,” interposed 
Gloom, testily. 

"No doubt of that,” returned Brief, with 
forced suavity. "But I was going to observe 
that, as this does not appear to be a case requiring 
legal services, I ” 

"There’s where you err,” interrupted Gloom. 
"It not only requires legal services, but legal 


200 


Odd Types 


talent, and that of a high order/' Brief looked 
at Gloom in mute inquiry. ^‘You will find/' con- 
tinued Gloom, ‘'that it will tax your powers of 
cross-examination to the utmost. For some rea- 
son that I cannot fathom, Dolly has so far re- 
fused to disclose the name of the man who ruined 
her. For certain purposes, which it is unneces- 
sary for me to divulge, I must obtain that in- 
formation. Do you think you can help me?" 

‘T will try," replied Brief, with that super- 
cilious smile of assurance always assumed by 
professional men to conceal their own lack of 
confidence. 

Gloom consulted his watch, and, observing 
that this was a time of day when Dolly would be 
certain to be at home, started off with Brief at 
once. After a brisk walk of some forty-five 
minutes, along a circuitous route, which avoided 
the main thoroughfare of the town, the two ar- 
rived at Dolly's house — just as that young 
woman had almost completed the long and terri- 
ble programme of punishments which she in- 
tended to mete out to Felice. As Gloom rang 
the bell. Brief threw back his shoulders, and as- 
sumed as stern an expression of countenance as 
he could, intending, if possible, to impress Dolly, 
at the first glance, with his dignity and im- 
portance. They had not long to wait ; for, with- 
in a few moments, the door was opened in a 
quick, impulsive way, and Gloom, followed 
closely by Brief, entered. Dolly was about to 
greet Gloom, when, her eyes falling on Brief, 
she stopped, and looked at him wonderingly. 

“This is my lawyer, Dolly," said Gloom, 


Odd Types 


201 


bluntly, ^‘Mr. Brief/’ Brief bowed stiffly, while 
Dolly, puzzled, and, it must be confessed, made 
uneasy by this unexpected visitor, stood gazing 
at him wide-eyed. She had a superstitious fear 
of lawyers, and had always associated them with 
bad luck. 

Gloom, not noticing the constraint between the 
two, continued on his way. ‘'Let us go in here,” 
he said, entering a cosy little room at the end 
of the hall. “This is just the place for a con- 
fidential talk.” Brief followed him silently, Dolly 
bringing up the rear at a considerable distance 
from the legal luminary. When she arrived at 
the threshold, she stopped. 

“I suppose,” she said, addressing Gloom, “you 
wish to speak privately with Mr. — Mr. 

“Brief?” suggested Gloom. 

“Brief,” continued Dolly; “so I’ll just ” 

“Not in the least,” interrupted Gloom. “In 
fact, what we are about to discuss concerns you 
more nearly than ourselves. Come in, and sit 
down.” 

Before complying, Dolly glanced again at 
Brief, and then, as though reassured that he was 
harmless, walked shyly to a chair near the door. 
Seating herself very upright, she began to smooth 
out her apron with both hands, with an ex- 
pression on her countenance as pious as a 
Quaker’s. The foolish girl somehow got it into 
her head that Gloom had brought Brief there to 
test the sincerity of her reformation. This sus- 
picion, however, was dissipated by the first words 
that Gloom uttered. 

“Dolly,” said he, “you will admit that I have 


20^ 


Odd Types 


taken considerable interest in you, and have given 
you a helping hand/’ 

*^Oh, more than I can ever repay, Mr. Gloom,” 
said Dolly, with genuine gratefulness in her tone. 

''But I’m not satisfied ” began Gloom. 

"Oh, sir!” exclaimed Dolly, her first suspicion 
returning, "I have tried ” 

"Let me finish,” interrupted Gloom. "What I 
wanted to say is, I am not satisfied to stop here. 
I wish to do still more for you. This, however, 
will be impossible unless certain things which 
you alone know of, are disclosed to me. So I’ve 
brought my lawyer here,” said Gloom, waving 
his arm in the direction of Brief, "to hear your 
story, and assist us, if he can, with his counsel. 
You have no objections, have you, to telling him 
everything ?” 

"Not in the least,” answered Dolly, at the 
same time glancing timidly at Brief. 

"Perhaps,” suggested Gloom, when he saw 
that Dolly made no move to say anything more, 
"it would be best for Mr. Brief to question you.” 

"Oh,” exclaimed Dolly, hastily, "I’d rather, if 
you don’t mind, tell my story in my own way.” 

"As you like,” said Gloom. 

Then, in a low and hesitating voice, which be- 
came stronger as she proceeded, Dolly began to 
tell the tale of her blighted life. Gloom followed 
her recital with evident sympathy, while Brief, 
as became a man of his profession, listened with- 
out show of any feeling whatever. What Dolly 
said, it is needless to rehearse here, since the 
greater part of it is already known to the reader. 
She stated merely the facts, without embellish- 


Odd Types ^03 

nient, and mentioned not a word of the terrible 
torture of mind and body which these experi- 
ences had inflicted on her. As when she had told 
her tale to Gloom, however, so now she omitted 
the name of her seducer. When she had finished, 
therefore. Gloom glanced significantly at Brief, 
as much as to say: ''You see, she still persists in 
screening her betrayer.’’ Brief threw back at 
Gloom a glance of confidence, and then, turning 
to Dolly, said : 

"You certainly have passed through a terrible 
ordeal. Miss Dash, and have suffered great 
wrongs. I think, however, that Mr. Gloom and I 
can find a way to redress most of them.” 

"Oh, I’d be very grateful, sir,” exclaimed 
Dolly. 

"But,” said Brief, continuing, "we can do 
nothing, unless we know the name of the man 
who caused all this misery.” 

"Is his name absolutely necessary?” asked 
Dolly. 

"Absolutely,” replied Brief. 

"His name,” began Dolly, "is ” Then she 

stopped, and asked suddenly: "Do you intend to 
do him any harm?” 

"No — no,” interrupted Gloom. "We don’t in- 
tend to do him any injury at all. On the con- 
trary, we will do him what we consider a kind- 
ness.” 

"Oh !” exclaimed Dolly, "I wouldn’t want him 
to come to any harm, for, sir, in spite of all, I 
still love him.” 

"I assure you,” said Brief, "that your wish 
will be respected. Just give us his name.” 


204 


Odd Types 


‘‘His name,” said Dolly, looking from one to 
the other, as though yet somewhat in doubt of 
their intentions, ‘‘is Charles Felice/’ 

Both men gave a start of astonishment. 

“Charles Felice !” exclaimed Brief, his surprise 
for a moment throwing him out of his profes- 
sional reserve. 

“Charles Felice!” echoed Gloom. 

“You both know him?” 

“Yes, Dolly,” said Gloom, bitterly, “we both 
know him.” 

“Oh, sir, then won’t you please speak to him 
for me,” pleaded Dolly, “and persuade him to 
right the wrong he has done me — in fact” — hes- 
itatingly — “to — to marry me?” 

“Persuade him!” exclaimed Gloom, indignant- 
ly. “Order him, would be more fitting, and if 
he still has a spark of manhood left, he’ll obey 
without hesitation. Luckily, he is at my house 
this very day. If possible. I’ll speak to him this 
/ evening. I want you to hold yourself in readi- 
ness, Dolly, to come there at any time, on a 
moment’s notice.” 

“To come to your house!” exclaimed Dolly, 
aghast at the prospect. “Oh, sir, I couldn’t do 
that.” 

“Why not?” asked Gloom, sternly. 

“Why — why — somebody may see me — you 
forget how people regard rhe. I — I — am brand- 
ed,” went on Dolly, bitterly, “like a criminal. If 
any one should find me there, it might injure you, 
and, oh, Mr. Gloom, I may have fallen very low, 
but not for my own salvation would I risk doing 
you an injury!” 


Odd Types 


305 


Gloom shrugged his shoulders. 

“I think,” interposed Brief, “Miss Dash is 
right. If, by chance, any one not knowing the 
purpose of her visit, should discover her there, 
it might lead to serious embarrassment.” 

“Pshaw ! — nonsense !” said Gloom, clinging to 
his plan with his usual stubbornness. “There 
isn’t the slightest danger. Just leave that to me,’’ 
he added, rising. “When I send for you, come.” 

Brief looked disgusted, but said iiothing; and 
Dolly, fearing lest opposition might arouse 
Gloom’s resentment, promised to follow his in- 
structions. 

For quite a time after they had left Dolly’s 
house, neither spoke. Phil seemed so busy with 
his own thoughts that Brief considered it best 
not to interrupt him. At length, Phil looked up. 

“Well, Brief,” said he, “what do you think of 
it?” 

“I am both surprised, and shocked,” answered 
Brief. 

“I was so, too, at first,” continued Phil; “but, 
on reflection, I’ve concluded it is only what was 
to be expected.” 

“Felice is such a charming fellow,” returned 
Brief, “that ” 

“That you can hardly believe it, eh?” sneered 
Phil, completing the sentence. “You forget. 
Brief, that the devil is always charming.” 

“Well, it’s really too bad. Poor fellow, it will 
be a horrible thing to have this matter, which he 
believes buried forever, raked up again.” 

“There you go!” exclaimed Gloom, petulant- 
ly; “just like the rest of the world. All sym- 


2o6 


Odd Types 


pathy for the man — but for the woman — not a 
thought — not a thought V 

'^That’s human nature, Mr. Gloom. It may be 
wrong, but we can’t change it. If you will take 
my advice, you will drop the whole thing right 
here.’' 

^‘What?” exclaimed Phil. ‘‘Drop it! Never! 
Why should I?” 

“Because, I fear, you will accomplish nothing 
at best; and in the end, only gain Felice’s en- 
mity.” 

“Do you mean to say,” exclaimed Gloom, “that 
Felice will be base enough, when he has it in his 
power to right the wrong he has done, to re- 
fuse?” Brief nodded. “Why,” continued Gloom, 
with a sneer, “you have an even lower estimate 
of human nature than I.” 

“It is not a matter of estimate,” answered 
Brief, “but of example. As in law, so in life, 
we follow precedent. As the majority of people 
under certain circumstances have acted in the 
past, so they will act in the future.” 

“If we all accepted that theory, there would 
never be any improvement. No — no. Brief, I 
am determined that Felice shall make amends to 
this poor girl.” 

“And if he doesn’t?” 

“It will only prove,” retorted Gloom, “that of 
all vile things in the universe, mankind is the 
vilest.” 

At this point they reached the main street of 
the town, and Brief, on the plea that he had 
other business to attend to, left Gloom to con- 
tinue his way alone. As Phil walked along slow- 


Odd Types 


207 


ly, cogitating upon the revelations of the morn- 
ing, the amount of injustice there was in the 
world, and the immunity from punishment en- 
joyed by the wrongdoers, the contemplation of 
his own impotency to remedy the evil put him in 
no amiable mood. When he arrived home, he 
immediately proceeded to his library, and, throw- 
ing himself into his favorite arm-chair, fell into 
a brown study. As he reflected upon the awful 
miseries to which the majority of human beings 
were subjected, and how inequitably the joys and 
sorrows of life were meted out, he felt almost in- 
clined to question the goodness of the Creator. 
His mind was just reverting to Dolly and Felice, 
when the latter, in person, came briskly into the 
room. 

'‘Ah! there you are, old man,’’ he exclaimed, 
in his usual, airy way. "Sorry, you didn’t go 
with us this morning. It was simply glorious. 
Just such a morning, in fact, as ” 

Here Felice happened to glance at Phil’s face, 
and observed that it wore a deep scowl. 

"What’s the matter? You look put out. She 
hasn’t thrown you overboard, has she?” asked 
Felice, banteringly. 

"You will do me a great favor, sir,” said 
Gloom, with considerable petulance, "by refrain- 
ing from such silly remarks.” 

"Caesar! as serious as that, eh?” exclaimed 
Felice, with mock soberness. "Is she dead?” 

"It perhaps would be better for her, if she 
were,” muttered Phil, overcome with a feeling 
of despair, as he glanced at Felice’s smiling 


2o8 Odd Types 

countenance, and saw neither compassion nor 
contrition in it. 

'‘Oh, come, old man!'" remarked Felice, light- 
ing a cigarette nonchalantly; "you must cheer 
up. Your distress, my dear fellow, because the 
world is not as you would have it, is of no avail. 
You'll never make it different from what it is, if 
you try a thousand years. So, why waste your 
energy in useless effort? Why render, not only 
yourself, but those about you, unhappy by at- 
tempting the impossible?" 

"if all thought as you do," retorted Phil, "this 
world would have been a wilderness long before 
now. Perhaps," he added, bitterly, "it would 
have been just as well." 

"Exactly," joined in Felice. "There's where 
I agree with you. It would have been just as 
well. Since this is so, don't you think it is 
more sensible to be pleasant to one's fellows and 
overlook their faults, than constantly to snarl 
and growl at them, and make them inimical? 
What is the use, during our short span of life, 
of darkening it with sorrow, when we can easily 
brighten it with pleasure? Take example by me, 
Phil, and I'll bet you'll enjoy existence, a great 
deal more than you do now. Forget the past ; 
don't worry about the future, and just immerse 
yourself in the present." 

"That," interrupted Phil, "is only possible 
where a man has no conscience. To my regret, 
I am not constituted that way. When I see hyp- 
ocrisy come slinking around in hyena-like fash- 
ion, it irritates me, and I cannot resist the im- 
pulse of castigating it When I see men and 


Odd Types 


209 


women, untrue to themselves and each other, 
saturated with selfishness, and actuated only by 
the meanest and basest motives, I cannot help 
hating and despising them; and if I cannot ef- 
fect their reform, I at least feel a satisfaction 
in scourging them with my tongue.’" 

‘'Oh, if that is the way you feel, well and good. 
But then, my dear fellow, don’t you think you 
ought to make some distinction? Surely, the 
whole world isn’t bad?” 

“I have yet to find the exception,” retorted 
Phil. 

“I hope,” answered Felice, as he moved tow- 
ard the door to follow Miranda, whose white- 
draped figure he had just seen passing through 
the hall, ‘T hope, Phil, soon to show you one.” 

Phil watched Felice until he was out of sight, 
and for some moments afterward remained with 
his gaze fixed in the direction Felice had taken. 
Then suddenly, as if stung to madness by the 
thought, he jumped up, exclaiming: “Am I a 
fool — a dolt? Why do I let that beast remain 
in my house ?” 

Unfortunately, like most men of contemplative 
habits. Gloom seldom put his resolves into action, 
and so, by the time evening had arrived, he had 
relapsed into the same inactive state of pessi- 
mism that was now his usual mood. The only 
difference was, that his remarks were a little 
more caustic — especially toward Felice. 


210 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER XIII. 

ANOTHER GATHERING. 

While Phil Gloom had been thus busily en- 
gaged in promoting the welfare of Dolly Dash, 
Miranda, urged on by Felice and Emma, each of 
whom was actuated by selfish interests, had been 
preparing another plot against her husband's 
peace of mind. In short, she had again invited 
— this time, on a night when Phil was sure to be 
at home — a considerable number of people to 
spend the evening with her. To be fair to Mi- 
randa, it must be stated that she had at first in- 
tended to forewarn her husband of what was 
coming; but when she imparted her intention to 
Emma, the latter, angered at Phil's recent small 
remittances, and thinking thus to revenge her- 
self, advised Miranda to say nothing, and to 
show her independence by not even consulting 
him. This advice was fully approved by Felice, 
who thought that such a disregard of Phil’s 
wishe's might bring about an open rupture be- 
tween them, and thus enable him to step for- 
ward as Miranda's champion. If he did this, 
who could say how far Miranda's gratitude 
might not carry her? 

Accordingly, on the evening of the party, as 


Odd Types 


211 


Phil, Miranda and Felice were seated after din- 
ner in the drawing-room — Felice, as always, di- 
verting Miranda, and irritating Phil — Miranda, 
hearing the clock strike eight, expressed her sur- 
prise that they did not come. 

“They?’' asked Phil, suddenly aroused. “Who 
are they?'' 

“Some friends I have invited,” answered Mi- 
randa, in a cold and indifferent tone. 

“Indeed!” exclaimed Phil, angrily. “It seems 
to me, madam, you’re becoming very independent 
of late. I wasn’t aware that any company was 
expected to-night.” 

“Well,” retorted Miranda, carelessly, “you 
know it now.” 

“And since I do,” responded Phil, rising In 
great heat, “I’ll give orders that we’re not at 
home.” 

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” cried Miranda, 
also springing to her feet. 

“Oh, come, Phil,” interposed Felice, soothing- 
ly, pressing Gloom by degrees back into his 
chair, “this is very childish in you. Let your 
wife have her own way about such things.” 

“No, no,” protested Phil; “it’s wrong; it’s 
wrong! I should have been consulted in the 
matter.” 

“Certainly,” said Felice, inducing Phil to sit 
down; “certainly — that’s just what we’re doing 
now.” 

“I intend to be master in my own house,” 
continued Phil, glancing angrily at Miranda. 

“So you are, old man; so you are,” said Felice, 
patting Phil on the back. 


212 


Odd Types 


‘Tor all I know, people may have been invited 
whom I don’t care to have here.” 

“There’s no danger of that, Phil,” said Felice, 
“for they are all old friends of yours.” 

“Oh, are they !” snapped Phil, turning on 
Felice. “Since you seem to be so well acquaint- 
ed with all the arrangements, perhaps you’ll favor 
me with their names?” 

“Delighted to do so, my dear fellow,” answered 
Felice, pretending not to have noticed Phil’s sar- 
casm. “First, there is Mrs. Shoddy •” 

“Stop — stop right there,” cried Phil, interrupt- 
ing. “I won’t have that woman in the house !” 

“As she has already been invited, we can’t very 
well help ourselves,” remarked Miranda, quietly. 

“If she comes here,” exclaimed Gloom, fiercely, 
“I’ll put her out.” 

“I think, sir,” answered Miranda icily, “you’ll 
hesitate long before you do that. It is quicker 
said than done.” 

“You know, I detest that woman!” snorted 
Phil. 

“Then she is no exception to the general rule,” 
answered Miranda, in her smoothest tones. 

“Madam!” cried Phil sternly, jumping to his 
feet. 

“Sir !” exclaimed Miranda, drawing herself up 
haughtily. 

“Oh, pshaw,” again interposed Felice, as 
Gloom sank back in his chair, “you don’t seem to 
understand, my dear fellow. We must submit to 
some inconvenience for the sake of being in the 
swim. Mrs. Shoddy is very wealthy, and ” 


Odd Types 


213 

"Mrs. Shoddy/’ interrupted Phil, "is a low 
bred woman.” 

"Granted,” said Felice, "but ” 

-She is ” 

At this moment, the very lady under discus- 
sion hove unexpectedly into view. 

"Nervy, dear,” cried that interesting person- 
age, as she stopped in the hallway, "tell John to 
put the covers over the horses.” 

" — the devil,” concluded Phil, under his breath. 

"Those coachmen,” continued Mrs. Shoddy, as 
she swung to, and returned Miranda’s embrace, 
"are so forgetful. Ah, my dear Mr. Felice,” she 
added, as the latter advanced to greet her, "I am. 
very glad to see you.” 

As Mrs. Shoddy glanced around, she observed 
Phil, and noticing his studied failure to come for- 
ward, the slight angered her. So, turning to Mi- 
randa, and pretending not to be aware of his 
presence, she said: "I suppose, dear, your hus- 
band has gone out, as usual. He doesn’t seem 
very fond of company — -in fact, he’s always 
rather shy. Yes, no doubt,” she continued, putt- 
ing her hand on Miranda’s mouth as the latter 
was about to speak, "he’s out playing billiards, or 
whist. Men always have such excuses, you know. 
I’m sure, he must play whist very well, he’s so 
very, very quiet.” 

"Allow me, madam,” exclaimed Phil, indig- 
nantly rising, "to correct you. I never played 
cards in my life.” 

"Why, dear me,” said Mrs. Shoddy, feigning 
surprise, "there you are, Mr. Gloom. I don’t 


214 


Odd Types 


see how I could have overlooked you. So,” she 
muttered, 'T made him move anyway.” 

As Mrs. Shoddy, after this masterpiece of 
diplomacy, was slowly floating toward a chair, 
her fair daughter, Minerva, prim and neat as 
ever, came smilingly forward. She was just ex- 
changing courtesies with Miranda when her 
mother startled them by tripping over a vase. 

‘^Gracious, what is that ?” exclaimed Mrs. 
Shoddy, gazing at the obstruction, as Minerva 
hastened to lift it up, and held it in her hands. 
'Tt seems to me the girl forgot to take away the 
soup tureen.” 

“The what?” asked Miranda, in surprise. 

“Pshaw,” muttered Minerva to her mother, 
“do suppress the cook, ma.” Then addressing 
the others, she said laughingly, so as to conceal 
her embarrassment, “Ma thinks she’s such a con- 
noisseur. She claims that this vase was made in 
Turin. But,” continued Minerva, pretending to 
examine it, “I disagree with her. To me, it ap- 
pears more like a chef d’oeuvre of Greece.” 

“You are right, dear,” said Miranda. “It was 
sent to me by a friend in Athens, and I prize it 
very highly.” 

Minerva was about to put it in its former place, 
when Miranda suggested that she stand it on a 
small table back of her. 

“One moment ” interposed Felice. “Don’t 

you think that would be courting danger?” 

“How?” asked Miranda, in surprise. 

“Suppose Mr. Grab ” 

“Oh, dear me, that’s true,” exclaimed Miran- 
da, rising in alarm. “Let me have it,” and taking 


Odd Types 


«S 

the vase from Minerva, she proceeded to place it 
in a cabinet of curios that stood in the further 
corner, locked the door, and put the key out of 
view. 

'T trust you will pardon me,’’ said Miranda, as 
Minerva and her mother watched her, in evi- 
dent amazement. ‘‘But I expect Mr. Grab short- 
ly — and you know his hobby.” 

Phil, all this while, had been sitting, sullen 
and immovable; but, at the name ''Mr. Grab,” 
he jumped up, as though something had stung 
him. 

"You have invited Mr. Grab!” he demanded 
hoarsely. 

"I have,” answered Miranda, with great dig- 
nity. 

"Madam!” exclaimed Phil, sternly. 

"Sir!” replied Miranda, in the same haughty 
tone as before. Her voice and manner seemed 
to awe Phil, and he sat down again without an- 
other word. 

For some moments after this passage-at-arms 
no one spoke, when Mrs. Shoddy, thinking to 
relieve the general embarrassment, and at the 
same time learn whether Demos was expected, 
turned toward Miranda, and asked in her pe- 
culiar, heavy voice : 

"Won’t you tell us, Mrs. Gloom, whom else 
we’re to have to join us around the bowl?” 

"The bowl?” queried Miranda, perplexed. 

"There,” whispered Minerva to her mother, 
"you have put your foot in it again.” Then she 
burst out laughing. "Oh, ma is so droll. To 
look at her countenance one would hardly believe 


2i6 


Odd Types 


that she’d just attempted the perpetration of a 

bon mot. Just look ” and Minerva stopped, 

as though choking with laughter. 

“Why, Nervy, aren’t you ashamed!” exclaimed 
Mrs. Shoddy, with a blank expression on her 
face, as much puzzled as the others, at her daugh- 
ter’s sudden access of mirth. 

“I beg your pardon, ma; but really, my risi- 
bilities are beyond control. You made that re- 
mark so soberly.” Then turning to Miranda and 
Felice, she added, by way of explanation: “Bowl 
is ma’s favorite sobriquet for table.” 

Out of politeness, both Miranda and Felice 
laughed, though neither was able to discover 
where the point of the joke lay. Minerva, how- 
ever, cared nothing for that. All she wanted 
was an opportunity to whisper to her mother, “Do 
suppress the cook, ma” — an admonition which, 
during that evening, she had occasion to repeat 
a number of times. 

In the course of the next half-hour there ar- 
rived several more guests, among them, some of 
the town’s chief celebrities. To all of these 
Phil accorded his usual blunt welcome, which 
consisted of a grunt and a nod of the head, while 
Miranda, as always, was kindly and gracious. 

In the general conversation that ensued, some 
one happened by chance to mention Grab — and 
immediately almost every one in the room had a 
tale to tell of some article taken, or some loss 
sustained, through that individual’s propensity 
for borrowing. They were still in the midst of 
these narratives, when the gentleman himself, 
rubbing his hands together as though he were 


Odd Types 


217 


washing them, came gliding in, with his usual soft, 
feline tread. He bowed to the company very gal- 
lantly, and then his black, bead-like eyes wander- 
ing around, and happening to espy the mantel- 
piece on which Miranda had let remain inad- 
vertently several small pieces of bric-a-brac, he 
at once took his course toward it. Evidently, he 
had se^n something of interest there, for his 
parchment-like face became suffused with an un- 
usual glow, and his eyes sparkled like jet in the 
sunlight. Every one in the room, knowing Grab’s 
hobby, naturally followed his movements with 
rapt attention. As Grab made his way across 
the room, Phil, with an angry glance at Miranda, 
exclaimed, sotto voce: ‘'Now, I’ll be fortunate 
if the roof remains over my head.” * 

Miranda, who, as has already been observed, 
always invited Grab for the sole purpose of using 
him as a foil to little Willie, was as much dis- 
tressed as Phil at Grab’s sudden resolution to 
wander. In the hope of diverting him, therefore, 
from what evidently was to be a predatory ex- 
pedition, Miranda called to him, and made a pre- 
tence of reproaching him with abandoning the 
ladies. 

“Ah, Mrs. Gloom,” remarked Grab, not a whit 
deterred, and still continuing to approach the 
mantel-piece, “I have long ceased to be attrac- 
tive to the fair sex. Besides,” he added, picking 
up a bisque figure, and handling it with loving 
gentleness, “what can the ladies find interesting 
in me, with so many younger and more handsome 
men present!” Here he put down the bisque 


2iB 


Odd Types 


figure and picked up another — the very one which 
Miranda prized the most. 

'‘Ah!'’ remarked Grab, half to himself, "just 
what Tve been seeking." Then turning to Mi- 
randa, who in her anxiety had arisen, and taken 
a step toward him, he said, in a coaxing, ques- 
tioning tone: "Only for a few days, until Fve 
had a duplicate made, eh?" Before Miranda 
could reply. Grab added : "Ah, I knew you 
wouldn't refuse me," and with that, dropped the 
figure in his pocket. 

"Good," muttered Phil to his wife, as she stood 
there, dumbfounded, "there goes your priceless 
Chinese figure. I only hope he makes a clean 
sweep of it." 

If Miranda had intended to remonstrate with 
Grab, that intention vanished immediately, as 
soon as she heard her husband's unamiable wish, 
and turning around rather haughtily, she re- 
sumed her seat. The rest of the company, be- 
coming absorbed in Grab's manipulations, the 
conversation by degrees began to lag, and finally 
ceased altogether, everyone watching intently the 
collector of curios. Grab, struck by the silence, 
turned around, and was surprised to find them 
all gaping at him. 

"Oh, don't let me disturb you," remarked 
Grab, deprecatingly. "Go right on talking. I'm 
a poor hand at a conversation, and so," he added, 
as he again took up a little knickknack, and held 
it toward the light, "I — a — amuse myself — ^by 
wandering — around." 

"Oh, do make him sit down," murmured Mi- 


Odd Types 219 

randa despairingly to Felice, who as usual was 
standing near her. 

''To me, your slightest wish is law,’' said 
Felice, in a tone so low that his words could 
only reach Miranda’s ears. Then turning to the 
others, he continued, in a voice a little louder, 
but still sufficiently subdued not to be heard bv 
Grab; "Watch Mr. Grab lose his interest in art 
now.” 

Then warning them not to arouse Grab’s sus- 
picions by staring, Felice began making his way 
leisurely toward his unsuspecting victim. He 
chanced to reach Grab just as the latter was 
deeply intent in studying a piece of brass work. 

"Very pretty, that,” remarked Felice, coming 
up, and loud enough to be heard all over the 
room. 

"Ah, Mr. Felice,” answered Grab, "I see you 
take an interest in such things, too. Yes,” gaz- 
ing fondly at the brass, "it is very pretty, and 
very odd.” 

"It has a singular history, too — that bit of 
brass,” rejoined Felice. 

"You don’t say so?” remarked Grab, in mild 
surprise. 

"Yes,” continued Felice, with a careless air, "it 
has traveled quite a distance — in fact, over al- 
most half of the United States. At the time of 
the yellow fever, down in Florida ” 

"Did you say yellow fever ?” interrupted Grab, 
giving a start. 

"Exactly,” answered Felice, pretending to mis- 
take Grab’s excitement for curiosity. "It’s quite 
an interesting story.” 


220 Odd Types 

^Tt must be,” remarked Grab, as a shudder ran 
through him. 

“As I was saying,” continued Felice, “when the 
yellow fever was down in Florida, one of the pa- 
tients in the hospital — he afterwards died, poor 
fellow! — while holding this very piece of brass 
in his hand ” 

“Really,” exclaimed Grab, dropping the article 
hastily, and in his fright almost running toward 
a chair, “this won’t do. We are neglecting the 
ladies.” 

“Wait a moment,” said Felice, hastening after 
him, “you didn’t let me finish.” 

“Oh — never mind — never mind,” said Grab, 
shuddering. Then he added, with a sickly, coax- 
ing smile, “Another time.” 

“Just as you wish,” remarked Felice, “but it’s 
really a very interesting story,” and with a per- 
fectly sober face, he sauntered oflE toward Mi- 
randa. 

As Grab glanced around, the rest of the com- 
pany burst out laughing, but since none of them 
looked at him, he naturally concluded that the 
laughter was not of his making. For some min- 
utes afterwards. Grab remained very quiet, save 
for an occasional shudder, and the ejaculation of 
the words “yellow fever,” under his breath. But 
the spirit of the curio collector, like that of any 
other zealot, seldom remains inactive long, and 
so it happened that while the rest of the com- 
pany, having resumed their conversation, were 
indulging in the usual twaddle that distinguishes 
all social gatherings. Grab’s little eyes fell upon 
a gold brooch, reposing upon the ample bosom 


221 


Odd Types 

of Mrs. Shoddy. Immediately, Grab was on his 
feet again, and in another instant was gliding 
swiftly toward the enticing object. He was only 
a few steps away, when Mrs. Shoddy, chancing 
to look up, became aware of his approach. 
Frightened at the tense expression on Grab’s face, 
Mrs. Shoddy, laying hold of her daughter’s arm 
for protection, cried : 

‘‘Goodness me, Mr. Grab! There is nothing 
there, is there — no grease spot!” 

“There goes the cook again,” muttered Miner- 
va, in disgust, trying to shake her mother off. 

“Oh no, madam,” answered Grab, reassuring 
her, “not at all. Only allow me one moment,” 
and with a deft movement, he undid the brooch 
from her dress. “Ah,” he exclaimed, as he 
gazed delightedly at the piece of gold nestling 
in his hand, “this is the very thing I’ve been 
searching for, so many months. What a prize !” 

“It surprises me,” remarked Phil, in a low 
aside, “he don’t take her clothes !” 

For a moment, Mrs. Shoddy’s astonishment de- 
prived her of the power of speech — but only for 
a moment. Then her indignation, coming to her 
rescue, she exclaimed angrily: “Well, Mr. Grab, 
if you are through with your examination, you 
will please return that fricasee ” 

“Filagree, ma !” corrected Minerva. 

“Filagree pin. I never saw such actions in all 
my life,” cried Mrs. Shoddy, and tossing up her 
head, she compressed her lips, and sniffed the 
air audibly. 

“My dear Mrs. Shoddy,” returned Grab, in 
humble, apologetic tones, “surely, you’re not an- 


222 


Odd Types 


gry? I certainly meant no harm. Perhaps, in 
my elation, I may have been a little rough. * If 
so, I ask you to pardon me.’' 

Mrs. Shoddy’s only answer was to stretch out 
her hand (bejeweled, as usual, to hide her work- 
worn fingers and shiny skin), as a mute request 
for the return of her property. 

^‘Oh,” exclaimed Grab, alarmed, but holding 
fast to the brooch, ^^you certainly can spare this 
for a few days, can’t you? Merely a loan, you 
know. Come, show our friends here, how phil- 
anthropic you are.” 

‘'What disease did he say I had?” demanded 
Mrs. Shoddy, turning to her daughter. 

“No disease, ma,” explained Minerva. “The 
gentleman merely asks you, as an evidence of 
your generosity, to loan him the brooch he has 
in his (here Grab dropped it in his pocket) — a — 
pocket.” 

“Exactly,” continued Grab, “and no words — 
no words, Mrs. Shoddy, can express how grate- 
ful I am, for your extraordinary ” 

“But I didn’t ” interposed Mrs. Shoddy. 

“Kindness,” continued Grab, waving his hand 
to enjoin silence. “I assure you, I shall remem- 
ber it as long as I live. In fact ” 

“But you haven’t ” again began Mrs. 

Shoddy. 

“True,” continued Grab, interrupting her once 
more, “I haven’t done justice to the subject; but, 
unfortunately, the gift of eloquence has been de- 
nied me. Oh, would that I had the power ” 

Here Minerva, scenting a long rhapsody, and 
knowing from experience how tiresome they 


Odd Types 223 

were, took the risk of incurring her mother’s dis- 
pleasure, by saying : 

“Never mind, Mr. Grab. I am sure I speak 
mamma’s mind, when I say that you may have 
the brooch — as a loan. But,” she added impres- 
sively, “do not forget to return it.” 

“Oh, certainly not, certainly not,” returned 
Grab, with great gravity. “Such obligations I 
always hold sacred, and it cannot be said of me 
that, in any one instance ” 

Whatever else Grab intended to say was here 
cut off by the arrival of Emma, Joe Gloom and 
their darling offspring, Willie. The moment 
Grab espied the form of his young Nemesis, his 
whole nature seemed to undergo a transforma- 
tion, his courage seemed to leave him, and his 
spirit quailed, as though in the presence of some 
terrible scourge. His face, too, suddenly as- 
sumed an expression of apprehension and sad- 
ness that was truly touching. Miranda, on the 
other hand, hailed the arrival of her little nephew 
with joy; for well she knew”, that for the time 
being, at least, the indefatigable little collector 
would make no further raids. 

The usual greetings over, Joe Gloom engaged 
in conversation with Felice, while his wife, ap- 
parently from shyness, but really to indulge in a 
spiteful examination of her neighbors’ apparel, 
selected a seat as far away from the rest of the 
company as possible, and gingerly sat down in it. 

“Don’t go back in that corner, Emma,” urged 
Miranda. “Come nearer. It looks more so- 
ciable.” 


2^4 Odd Types 

''Oh, Fm comfortable,” returned Emma, refus- 
ing to budge. 

Meanwhile, Willie, of course, was not idle. 
As he came in, he had a stick of candy in his 
hand, and was sucking it vigorously. But hard- 
ly had he been in the room two minutes when 
his ingenious little brain conceived a plan that 
was bound to make every one ill at ease. Begin- 
ging with the chair on which he had been seated, 
he started to rub his wet candy on all the chairs 
in the room. His peregrinations brought him, in 
the course of time, in the neighborhood of Mrs. 
Shoddy. Fearful lest he might take it in his 
head to serve her dress as he had the furniture, 
she diplomatically put out her hand, and while 
pretending to stroke his hair, kept him at arm’s 
length away from her. At the same time, to 
cover her manoeuvre, she pretended to be struck 
with intense admiration of him, remarking loud- 
ly, so that his parents could hear her : "Oh, what 
a dear little boy!” 

To which, Minerva, gathering her skirts about 
her, as Willie passed by, added: "Yes, such a 
sweet child.” 

"Well, did one ever see the like 1” commented 
Emma to herself, as she sat watching them. 
"They act as if Willie would infect them. Come 
here, dearie,” she called to Willie. "Sit down 
by mamma,” 

"I won’t,” answered that young gentleman, in 
most emphatic tones, and continued on his 
course. 

Miranda now arose, and observing that all the 
guests, except Demos and Brief, were present, 


Odd Types 


225 


she stated that she would not wait for them any 
longer, and suggested that all repair to the gard- 
en. Immediately, everyone except Phil started 
for the door. As they came together toward the 
one point, it chanced that Willie found himself 
directly behind Grab. This was a temptation 
which Willie found simply impossible to resist, 
and so, hastily wetting his candy, he rubbed it 
on Grab’s trousers. 

^'Drat you ! What are you doing ?” exclaimed 
Grab angrily, turning around, and in his exas- 
peration giving Willie’s hand a pinch. Instantly 
Willie uttered a piercing screech, as if he had 
received a mortal wound — and naturally, his par- 
ents , frightened out of their wits, rushed back 
into the room, followed by the rest of the com- 
pany. 

‘'Goodness, child,’ cried Emma, running toward 
him all atremble, “what is the matter?” 

“Mr. Grab pinched me,” sobbed Willie. 

“Where, dearie — where?” asked his anxious 
mother, folding him in her arms. 

“There,” answered Willie, pointing to a red 
spot on his hand, and beginning to sob again. 

“Come, come, dearie. Now, never mind,” said 
his mother, trying to soothe him. “He won’t do 
it again.” Then turning suddenly on Grab, who 
stood there somewhat bewildered, she added in 
her usual tenuous tones: “You ought to be 
ashamed of yourself to pinch a child like that. 
Just look at that hand — how swollen it is !” 

“Why, Emma,” said Miranda, taking her neph- 
ew’s hand, and examining it closely, “I see noth- 
ing there.” 


226 


Odd Types 


‘‘Of course not,” answered Grab, disgustedly. 

‘T hardly touched the boy.” 

“You have no right to lay a finger on him,” re- 
torted Emma sharply. “If he annoyed you, it 
was your duty to come to me. I am the one to 
punish him — not you.” 

“Yes,” exclaimed Joe, who seemed suddenly to 
awake to the enormity of Grab’s offense, ad- 
vancing menacingly toward him, “my wife is 
right. What do vou mean by striking that 
child?” 

“I didn’t strike him,” returned Grab stoutly. 

“Oh, pshaw,” here remarked Phil, coming for- 
ward, “this is much ado about nothing. The boy 
isn’t hurt at all.” 

At this declaration, both Joe and Emma as- 
sumed a war-like attitude, and would certainly 
have lashed Phil with their tongues, had not Mi- 
randa adroitly whispered something in Willie’s 
ear, that caused that youngster’s sobs at once 
to cease. 

“You don’t care, Willie, do you?” added Mi- 
randa, aloud. “You’ll come with auntie, won’t 
you, dear?” Then taking Willie’s sticky hand in 
hers, she led the way to the garden, followed by 
all, except Joe, Emma and Phil. 

“Another storm brewing,” muttered Phil to * 
himself, glancing at his brother and sister-in-law, 
as they stood about awkwardly, waiting for the 
rest of the company to clear the room. 

As soon as the last person had disappeared, 
Joe, turning angrily upon his brother, exclaimed : 
“Now, do you want to know why we stay here 
with you ?” 


Odd Types 


227 


^T think, I can surmise,’’ answered Phil, with 
a sigh. ‘'Some more complaints about business, 
no doubt. It seems to me, I sent you a check 
only the other day. Didn’t you receive it?” 

“Of course, I received it,” answered Joe test- 
ily, “and if you had given it to me in a 'proper 
way, I would have really looked upon it as a 
favor ; but to send it by a messenger, the way 
you did ” 

“But, Joe,” interrupted Phil, “I couldn’t pos- 
sibly come down myself, and as you had sent 
me word that you needed the money immediately, 
I naturally sent it by the quickest method I 
knew of.” 

“Pooh, pooh,” returned Joe, shaking his head 
up and down, in which movement Emma joined 
with hers, “tell that to the marines. I know why 
you did it. You did it to humiliate me, that’s all. 
It wouldn’t have taken you a half-hour to have 
brought it yourself. Where there’s a will, there’s 
a way, you know. But let that pass. That’s not 
what we wanted to talk to you about.” 

“I can’t imagine what else there can be,” re- 
marked Phil, bluntly, impatient to be left to him- 
self. 

“No?” queried Joe sarcastically. “Well, there 
are any number of things.” 

'Tf that is so,” said Phil, appalled at the pros- 
pect of a long conference, “I’d rather you’d wait 
until some other time, Joe. If you knew how I 
yearn for a few moments of quiet in my library, 
after all this turmoil, you’d desist. Don’t im- 
agine, that you are the only one who has worri- 
ments,” 


228 


Odd Types 


'‘Just hear him,” exclaimed Joe, turning to Em- 
ma, "he’s very eloquent, isn’t he, about his own 
troubles, but he never thinks of ours. Such 
selfishness! Of course,” continued Joe satirically, 
facing Phil again, "why should our troubles con- 
cern you? What do you care whether we live, 
or die? Not a bit. However, even to all that, I 
wouldn’t say a word; for I’m independent, and 
ask odds of nobody. But what I do say is, that 
even if you care nothing for us, yet for the sake 
of appearances, you should at least show us a 
little courtesy. That don’t cost a fortune.” 

"What do you mean?” asked Phil, perplexed 
at Joe’s intimations. 

"What do I mean?” continued Joe. "You 
know well enough what I mean. You thought 
I didn’t see you passing my store yesterday, didn’t 
you? You thought to skulk by unnoticed, didn’t 
you? Well, there’s where you miscalculated. I 
saw you — saw you as plainly as I see you now. 
Nice conduct, isn’t it, for a brother? What do 
you think people will say when they hear of it?” 

"The people!” returned Phil, with irritation. 
"I care nothing for the people.” 

"But I do,” retorted Joe. "I’m dependent on 
them for my bread and butter, and you know it. 
Actually, I believe you just act this way on pur- 
pose to ruin my trade.” 

"Don’t talk nonsense, Joe,” interposed Phil, 
petulantly. 

"There’s no nonsense about it,” persisted Joe. 
"You know, as well as I, that strangers notice 
such things very quickly, and if they see my own 
brother passing my store without so much as a 


Odd Types 


229 


nod, they’ll immediately imagine I’ve done, I 
don’t know what. And what will be the conse- 
quences? Why, before long, my whole business 
will be ruined. Yes — ruined, and through your 
actions,” and Joe began to pace up and down ex- 
citedly. 

‘‘Now, listen to reason, Joe,” said Phil calmly. 
“How could you have seen me, when you were 
behind the safe at the time?” 

“How?” repeated Joe, evidently puzzled. 

“Give in, Joe,” continued Phil. “You’ve heard 
all this from some one else.” 

“Oh, I understand your hint,” interposed Em- 
ma. “Well, if you want to know. I’m the some 
one else. I saw you — how you tried to slip by — 
and what’s more, how you made faces at us, 
in the bargain.” 

“I made faces at you?” exclaimed Phil, as- 
tounded at this new accusation. 

“Yes — that’s what you did. The people are 
all talking about it, too.” 

‘That isn’t true,” retorted Phil. 

“Well, I like that,” exclaimed Emma, becom- 
ing agitated. “Do you mean to tell me I lie ?” 

“Yes,” exclaimed Joe, flaring up, “do you 
mean to say she lies?” 

“Oh, you misunderstand me,” said Phil, wear- 
ily. “She tells the truth, that is — to a certain 
extent; but, unfortunately, her excited imagina- 
tion adds circumstances that never occurred. 

Just as Emma was about to reply, there came 
up from the garden the siren voice of Willie. 

“Ma! ma!” it screeched, “Mr. Grab is trying 
to hit me.” 


230 Odd Types 

At that appeal, Emma’s maternal spirit being, 
at once aroused, it swept everything else out of 
her mind. 

‘T’m coming, dear,” she called, adding, as she 
hurried toward the door, ^'Joe, you go right 
along with me. I’ll see whether that man dares 
to strike the child again in my presence, or not ! 
I’ll have the law on him — the wretch !” and with 
that she hastened from the room, closely followed 
by Joe, leaving Phil grateful for his deliverance. 


Odd Types 


231 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE GATHERING BREAKS. 

The night was beautifully clear. The full 
moon, tinging the trees, the grass and the foliage 
with its silvern sheen, made the garden a spot of 
beauty. Further to dispel the darkness, Miranda 
had had Chinese lanterns hung around, and 
these, with their soft rays, swaying in the gentle 
breeze, imparted to the scene the appearance of 
an enchanted fairyland. The guests wandered 
about the place, singly or in groups, according to 
their inclinations, and Miranda, closely attended 
by Felice, went from one to another, acting the 
charming hostess to perfection. 

Engrossed in her duties, she did not observe 
that Felice, in several instances, made compli- 
mentary remarks that were much bolder than 
any he had hitherto ventured upon, and that his 
actions, at times, more nearly resembled those of 
an ardent lover than of an intimate friend. Not 
so, however, the rest of the company, who, as is 
customary with sweet human nature, had kept 
their eyes on their neighbors, while pretending 
to be taken up with the persons with whom they 
were conversing. And, as usual, the majority 
condemned the woman. ‘'Scandalous conduct,” 


232 


Odd Types 


'‘shameless creature/’ and other kindred epithets 
were freely applied to Miranda by the grateful 
beings who were enjoying her hospitality. To 
be sure, there were some exceptions. Demos, 
who with Brief, had arrived shortly after the 
guests had repaired to the garden, was so fully 
occupied with his efforts to impress upon Mrs. 
Shoddy his greatness as a statesman and an ora- 
tor, that everything else was crowded out of his 
mind. And Mrs. Shoddy was so entranced by 
his conversation that she even failed (what was 
very rare with her) to keep an eye on Minerva. 
Not that she understood all that Demos said, but 
his grandiloquent language seemed so to hypno- 
tize her, as to render, her oblivious of all except 
himself. So complete, in fact, was the spell he 
cast over her, that though he rehearsed one of his 
speeches three times in succession, she sat through 
it all, without even a single sigh of impatience. 
As may be supposed, such a rare opportunity was 
not allowed to pass by Minerva and Brief unim- 
proved, and wrapt up in each other, they were in 
consequence among the few to whom the conduct 
of Felice and Miranda was a thing unknown. 

Meanwhile, Felice, interpreting Miranda’s 
failure to resent his advances, as a sign of com- 
placency on her part, became momentarily bolder. 
And believing the condition of affairs ripe for a 
declaration of his passion, he watched for an 
opportunity to make the avowal. Chancing, 
shortly before supper, to be in the dining room 
with Miranda, where she was busy handing him 
little souvenirs to place before the plate of each 
guest, Felice, while taking one from her, became 


Odd Types 


233 


suddenly seized with an irresistible impulse, and 
before his sober sense could intervene, grasped 
her hand passionately, and imprinted a kiss on it. 
Miranda, whom the success of the entertain- 
ment had made very amiable, and kindly disposed 
toward every one, to Felice’s delight, did not 
seem to take umbrage at his presumption, but 
smiled at him indulgently, as would a mother at a 
mischievous child. 

What is often, however, an innocuous impro- 
priety under four eyes, becomes a heinous crime 
under six. And so it proved in this case ; for, 
unfortunately, Felice’s act had been witnessed by 
another. Daniel Demos, who at that moment had 
come through the hall, and whose approach had 
not been noticed by either of them, was on the 
point of entering the room, when the sight of 
Felice’s gallantry stopped him. Not wishing to 
have the parties involved know that he had been 
an observer, though an unwitting one. Demos 
hurried back some distance on tiptoe, and then, 
turning about again, walked toward the dining 
room with heavy footsteps. When he reappeared 
the second time, Miranda was at one end of the 
table and Felice at the other. 

‘‘Oh, come right in, Mr. Demos,” said Miranda. 
“You see, we’re putting on the finishing touches.” 

“Why, how are you, Demos?” exclaimed 
Felice cheerily, as he stepped around the table 
from place to place. “What made you so late 
to-night ?” 

“Couldn’t get away from my constituents,” 
answered Demos. “Near election time those fel- 
lows stick to one like leeches. A man might as 


234 Odd Types 

well try to get rid of his shadow, as to shake them 
loose/’ 

‘‘They certainly must worship you,” said Felice, 
laughing. 

“Me, or my money,” answered Demos. “Fm 
always in doubt which.” 

“And do you expect to enter the next Con- 
gress?” asked Miranda. 

“Not the slightest doubt of it,” said Demos, 
with that air of assurance which all political can- 
didates have, no matter how slim their chances. 
“And when I get there,” continued Demos, in his 
usual, pompous manner, “I expect to deliver a 
speech that will surprise the world.” 

“Indeed,” exclaimed Miranda, as though in- 
terested. 

“Yes,” continued Demos, “I feel that this time 
I will eclipse even the notoriety of a Daniel 
Webster. Just let me read,” added he, drawing 
a manuscript out of his pocket, and beginning to 
adjust his eye glasses — “just let me read you the 
first part of it.” 

Now, this was the same speech which Demos 
had that very evening read three times in suc- 
cession to the admiring Mrs. Shoddy; and as 
both Miranda and Felice knew from experi- 
ence what a bore these samples of oratory were , 
they became nervous, and began to rack their 
brains for some way to escape without giving 
offense. 

Meanwhile Demos, utterly regardless of their 
feelings, or of the fitness of time and place, kept 
on. “To show you,” said he, “how difficult it is 
to compose a really good speech, I need but tell 


Odd Types 


^35 


you that this is already my twentieth revised copy, 
and yet, in spite of that fact, there is still ample 
room for improvement. Of course, the speech is 
on the vital question of the day. It treats 

‘'There, Mr. Demos, isn’t that pretty?” broke 
in Felice, pointing to the table, and hoping thus 
to turn the statesman from his purpose. 

‘^es, very pretty,” said Demos, without 
troubling to look up. “As I was saying,” he re- 
sumed, “this speech is on the Tariff, and I haven’t 
the slightest hesitancy in saying that the thoughts 
it contains are so novel and so forceful that they 
will arouse universal attention.” 

“Dear me,” exclaimed Miranda, as Demos 
paused a moment to glance over the pages, “I al- 
most forgot the bon bons,” and thinking this a 
sufficient excuse for her desertion, she glided 
swiftly to the door, and made her escape. 

Felice, finding himself left thus alone to bear 
the brunt of Demos’s elocutionary onslaught, be- 
came panic-stricken, and in his desperation, not 
able to think of anything else, exclaimed : “I’ll 
help you bring them,” and hurried after her. 

Demos, meanwhile, being intent on his manu- 
script, and entirely unconscious of this defection, 
busied himself with rearranging the sheets, and 
having finally put them in satisfactory order, 
cleared his throat, and with his eyes fastened on 
the page before him, started in : “I shall begin,” 
said he, “thus : Mr. Speaker : Standing here, as 
I do, amid the representatives of forty-five states 
— ^You see,” observed Demos, in an explanatory 

tone, raising his eyes, “I say that to arouse ” 

Here he stopped suddenly, for on looking around 


Odd Types 


236 

he discovered that he was addressing* the empty 
air. For a moment, he remained motionless; 
then, heaving a deep sigh, he took off his glasses, 
and slipping them into his pocket, exclaimed 
with a rather sad inflection: ‘‘Well, well! this is 
miraculous. However,"' he added, philosophi- 
cally, proceeding to refold his manuscript, “it is 
not the first time my audience has disappeared, 
nor will it probably be the last. To be sure" — this 
in a consolatory way — “people so sensually in- 
clined as Mr. Felice and Mrs. Gloom cannot pos- 
sibly be expected to appreciate oratorical excel- 
lence. However," — compressing his lips so 
tightly that they formed a straight line, which 
had length, but no breadth — “I shall revenge my- 
self for this disrespect, before the 'night is over. 
That secret conference behind closed doors which 
I witnessed a few moments ago certainly augurs 
no good to Phil Gloom's domestic felicity. I'll 
just constitute myself committee of the whole, and 
thresh the matter out. Ah," he exclaimed, as 
Brief suddenly appeared at the door, “the very 
person I wanted to see." 

“Why, hello! You here!" exclaimed Brief, 
somewhat taken aback ; for the truth was he had 
half expected to find Minerva there instead, and 
it was his quest of her which had brought him to 
this part of the house. 

“Yes, and it is a lucky thing you've come, Jim, 
for I was just about to search for you," said 
Demos. 

“To search for me? Why?" 

“Because," returned Demos impressively, ‘T've 
discovered something that astonishes me. Hadn't 


Odd Types 


237 


I seen it with my own eyes, I would hardly be- 
lieve it ; but even after having seen it, I confess, 
I am puzzled/’ 

‘‘Ha! ha!” laughed Brief. “That’s a paradox, 
Demos — a pure paradox. You — a politician — 
and puzzled ! Impossible ! I’ve never seen one 
yet who didn’t think he knew everything, and 
who couldn’t solve all matters, however difficult, 
to his own satisfaction.” 

“Well,” persisted Demos, “strange as it is, I 
am puzzled.” Then, first glancing around to sec 
whether any one was near, he stepped close to 
Brief, and continued, in almost a whisper, “Do 
you know that Mrs. Phil Gloom is not O. K. ?” 

“Mrs. Phil Gloom !” exclaimed Brief, in similar 
tones. 

“Sh! not so loud,” said Demos, warningly. 
“You seem amazed. So was I — not only amazed, 
but shocked. I saw conduct of hers, Jim, only a 
few moments ago, that, to say the least, was far 
from proper.” 

“Far from proper!” echoed Brief, with a start. 
“Ha !” he continued, suddenly inflated with a deep 
sense of his professional responsibility, “now you 
interest me. You are speaking of a client. Demos, 
and my client’s interests are always my interests, 
his honor is my honor, his ” 

“Property,” interrupted Demos, smiling, “is 
your property — yes, yes.” 

“No, no,” objected Brief; “I merely wanted to 
say ” 

“That it will be yours,” again interposed Demos 
banteringly, “before you are through with his 
case.” 


238 


Odd Types 


''No — no, Demos,’’ protested Brief, in tones 
laden with the heaviness of remorse ; "there’s 
where you wrong me. I am far too honest for 
that. Consequently, I’m not half as well off as 
I might be, had I been less scrupulous. But to 
come back to the direct examination. What un- 
becoming conduct did you witness ?” 

"You rightly call it unbecoming,” said Demos. 
"For when Mr. Felice took her hand and kissed 
it — and the way he kissed it! — Mrs. Gloom not 
only made no protest, but by her manner seemed 
to encourage its repetition.” 

"Seemed to encourage its repetition 1” repeated 
Brief. "Hm, this is indeed serious. Have you 
informed her husband ?” 

"No. I did not wish to do that until I had con- 
sulted you.” 

"It’s the only proper course to pursue,” ob- 
served Brief sagely, shaking his head. 

"Exactly my opinion, Jim,” said Demos. "I’ve 
always held that in matters of this kind it is by 
far best to bring the full information directly be- 
fore the whole house. By keeping it in commit- 
tee you only put off the inevitable. Come, I’ll go 
with you part of the way,” and linking his arm in 
Brief’s, the two traversed the hall together. Ar- 
rived at the other end, they separated. Brief 
mounting the stairs to the library, while Demos 
continued on toward the garden. 

Upon reaching his destination. Brief found 
Phil Gloom, not as he had expected, reading a 
book, but pacing up and down, quite agitated, and 
like most men, when in earnest thought, talking 
half-aloud to himself. 


Odd Types 


239 


''Oh, what a devilish world it is!’’ Gloom was 
exclaiming. '"Men consider themselves the su- 
periors of other animals, and yet, if we are to 
judge them by their actions, they are the worst 
beasts of all. Of noble qualities, they have none. 
The whole human race seems to be nothing but 
a host of arrant knaves. Not content with break- 
ing all laws, both human and divine, they add 
spiciness to their crimes, by covering them with 
a semblance of honesty. Hard, cruel, cold selfish- 
ness — that is their sole dominating trait. What 
cares any man whether his neighbor starves, as 
long as he himself is well fed ! If Dives can add 
another million to his riches, what matters it to 
him how many must perish from hunger in con- 
sequence! Money! yes, money! that is the only 
goal for which men strive in these days ; that is 
the only god they worship. With it the scoundrel 
can buy honor, and live a life of ease — without it 
the wisest, the noblest man is of less consequence 
than the dirt beneath his feet.” 

‘‘At it again?” remarked Brief, as Gloom, 
turning around, became aware of his presence. 

“Oh, I can’t help it,” answered Gloom despair- 
ingly, as he flung himself into his armchair; “I 
can’t help it. Take up any newspaper, and you 
will find it filled with nothing but accounts of the 
basest and most ignoble deeds. As for the record 
of a sweet, human action, it is as rare as an oasis 
in a desert. I tell you, Brief, when I see and 
read how, for the sake of money, children turn 
upon their parents, and parents sacrifice their 
children ; how friendships of a lifetime are rent 
asunder in a moment; how men will sell their 


240 


Odd Types 


dearest friends and closest intimates, body and 
soul, for the possession of a little dirty lucre, it 
makes me almost believe that the suicides among 
us are our wisest sages. They know, at least, 
that by dying they cannot reach a worse place 
than this, and are cheered by the hope of arriving 
at a better.’’ As Gloom poured forth this denun- 
ciation, Brief smiled. ‘‘Ah, you smile,” contin- 
ued Gloom sadly, “but I tell you. Brief, the depth 
of human depravity, to which we have descended, 
is awful to contemplate.” 

“Oh,” remarked Brief lightly, “you fail to make 
allowance for human infirmities.” 

‘T)on’t talk to me about infirmities,” snapped 
Gloom. 

“Well, I won’t,” said Brief, seating himself. 
Then in a seemingly careless manner, he added : 
“I always regard my client’s wishes, you know. 
Besides, why waste words upon irrelevant mat- 
ters, when those of nearer concern claim our 
attention.” 

“Of nearer concern ?” queried Gloom. 

“Yes, Mr. Gloom,” said Brief, now becoming 
impressive. “Matters, I am sorry to say, of very 
serious import to you. And when I tell you of 
them, I trust you’ll consider them merely as hear- 
say, and not as a direct accusation.” 

“What do you mean ?” 

“Simply this,” continued Brief. “I am told 
that Mr. Felice has conceived an attachment for 
your wife. Understand, I know nothing person- 
ally. I am only repeating the utterances of an- 
other. Nevertheless, I consider it my duty as 
your attorney to advise you to be watchful so that 


Odd Types 


241 


he don't get judgment in his favor and issue exe- 
cution on your marital bond. Such men as he, 
Mr. Gloom, are very dangerous.” 

For a moment, Phil Gloom was dumb with sur- 
prise ; but quickly collecting himself, he asked 
Brief on what he based his suspicions. Brief re- 
peated what Demos had told him. 

‘‘Can it be possible?” exclaimed Gloom. 
“Felice !” Then, after a pause, he added : “Yes, 
you are right. Brief. It is possible. Pll watch 
him. And,” continued Gloom vehemently, “if 
your surmise proves true, we part — Miranda and 
I — we part forever.” 

“I sincerely trust it will never come to that, 
Mr. Gloom,” said Brief, rising, though he could 
not repress a felling of exultation at the brilliant 
prospect of a divorce suit, which appeared about 
to present itself. 

“So, so,” said Gloom, as he also arose, and with 
Brief, descended the stairs. “My best friend! 
Well — he is the first one to be suspected. Who 
is usually your best friend but your most cun- 
ning enemy. Go out into the garden,” continued 
Gloom, “so that no one sees us together.” Then, 
turning abruptly toward the right. Gloom went 
into the reception room, while Brief, impatient to 
join Minerva, hastened out into the open air. He 
was just in time to join the procession to supper. 

Phil Gloom, distraught, threw himself into a 
chair, and was about to bend his thoughts to the 
formulation of a plan for the espionage of his 
wife and Felice, when Grab, closely followed by 
his little tormentor, Willie (of whose presence, 
however, he seemed unaware) came wandering 


242 


Odd Types 


in. As Phil glanced up, he noticed under Grab’s 
arm the teakwood box, upon which Miranda had 
always set such great store, and which, Phil re- 
called, he had last seen standing on the mantel- 
piece in that very room where he now was. 
When Grab saw Phil, he started guiltily, but re- 
covering himself immediately, glided toward him. 

''Ah, Mr. Gloom,’’ said Grab, in his soft, flute- 
like voice, "I have been looking for you all over.” 
Just then, Willie with a feather, torn probably 
from some costly duster, crept stealthily behind 
Grab, and tickled his hand. Grab, thinking it 
was a fly, jerked his hand upward and outward to 
drive the insect away, and threw Willie almost 
into a fit with suppressed laughter. "You see,” 
•continued Grab, taking the box from under his 
arm, and seating himself opposite Phil, with Wil- 
lie, still unobserved, behind him, "I have been 
very diligent. It is my ambition, sir, to have the 
finest collection of curios in the world. And if 
patient research is of any value, I shall certainly 
succeed. In seeking for rare specimens, I never 
for a moment relax my efforts, and once I dis- 
cover anything that will add to the completeness 
of my collection, I bend every energy to obtain 
it.” 

"You’re right there,” observed Phil bluntly, as 
Grab paused to flip his ear, which Willie had just 
touched very lightly with his feather. 

"Now, it often happens,” continued Grab more 
confidently, viewing Phil’s remark in the light of 
a commendation, "that I find the rarest treasures 
in the most unexpected places. Take, for in- 
stance, this box. I hardly think you know what 


Odd Types 


243 


a real treasure of art you have here. Just look, 
for instance, at the exquisite beauty of this little 
carving in the corner,'' and Grab, in order to give 
Phil a better view, tipped the box toward him. 

As Grab tilted the box, the lid swung wide 
open, and a letter, dropping out, darted as though 
sentient with a definite purpose directly at Phil 
Gloom's feet. Strange — wonderful it is, how 
meanly malicious inanimate objects can be at 
times, and how sometimes circumstances seem to 
combine with almost human intelligence to do the 
guiltless hann. Nor are circumstances, in such 
cases, any less cruel, or less pitiless, than human 
beings. The present situation was an excellent 
illustration of it. If the reader will recall, it was 
this very teakwood box, into which Miranda had 
negligently thrown that letter from Felice, for 
which she had upbraided him so severely, and 
which she had intended to return to him. Un- 
fortunately, in the whirl of other matters, she had 
forgotten it. Ah, poor woman, could she have 
forseen how this slight lapse of memory was to 
darken her life, she would never have rested un- 
til that accusing bit of paper had been turned to 
ashes. As it was, however, being still in exist- 
ence, it started in, without apparent compunction, 
to work out its devilish destiny. Thinking it 
some unimportant scrap, Phil bent over and 
picked it up, and unfolding it, glanced at its con- 
tents carelessly. The next instant, however, he 
sat bolt upright, as though he had received an 
electric shock, while over his face spread a deathly 
pallor. Once more he glanced at the epistle, then 
quickly folding it, thrust it into his pocket, and 


244 


Odd Types 


falling back in his chair, moaned. Here, at hand, 
appeared to be indisputable proof of what he had 
fondly hoped was untrue. When confronted 
with such evidence, what possible defense could 
Miranda make ? The thought of her deception — 
of the infidelity of the one creature in whom he 
had put his trust — made poor Phil heart-sick. It 
seemed to him as though the last straw of faith 
in humanity had been snatched from him. 

Grab, who, interested in the carving, had not 
observed the letter fall, was going on with his ex- 
position of its beauties, when Phil’s moan caused 
him to look up. 

‘'Dear me,” exclaimed Grab, observing Phil’s 
face, "how pale you are! Are you ill?” 

"No. It’s all over,” groaned Phil. "Go on.” 

"Well, as I was saying,” again began Grab, but 
he got no further; for Willie, emboldened by his 
previous successes, now applied his feather to 
both ears, which set Grab’s head moving from 
side to side, and his hands flipping his ears con- 
tinuously. "A great many flies here, aren’t 
there?” observed Grab. 

"I have never felt any,” answered Phil, in a 
vacant sort of way, his mind evidently intent upon 
some other subject. 

Just then, Willie, no longer able to contain 
himself, burst into a loud laugh. 

"Aha!” exclaimed Grab, jumping up and turn- 
ing around, "it’s you, is it, you young scamp !” 
and grasping the boy by the arm, he pulled him 
forward with a far from gentle jerk. 

"Let me go,” whined Willie, trying to break 
away. 


Odd Types 245 

“Wm you ever do that again?” asked Grab, 
still holding him. 

“Let me go, or I’ll scream,” said the irrepressi- 
ble. 

“Not until you promise to behave yourself,” 
declared Grab firmly. Then, as Willie tried to 
bite his hands. Grab caught him by the ears. The 
success of this manoeuvre seemed to exasperate 
Willie to madness, and opening his mouth, he let 
out a screech that sounded like a death-shriek. 
Grab was so scared that he let Willie go almost 
involuntarily, while it brought Phil to his feet in 
a bound ; and an instant afterward, all the guests, 
who in the dining room below were being regaled 
by Demos with excerpts from one of his speeches, 
started from their seats in great alarm, and run- 
ning up the stairs, precipitately rushed into the 
room, with the full expectation of finding some- 
body murdered. In the van, of course, was 
Emma, who, having recognized Willie’s voice, 
and imagining all sorts of horrible misfortunes, 
fairly flew toward her angelic boy, and in an acme 
of maternal anxiety clasped him to her breast. 

“Goodness, child,” exclaimed she, “what has 
happened ?” 

“Grab hit me,” whimpered Willie. 

“Again,” cried Emma, in her shrillest treble. 
"Where, child, where ?” > 

‘TEIere,” said Willie, pointing to his right ear, 
and forcing out his sobs with all his might. 

"Goodness,” exclaimed Emma, feeling the spot 
indicated with her hand, “what a lump! Quick, 
Joe, gjve me your handkerchief.” And then 
while his mother tied it about his head, the dear. 


246 


Odd Types 


little child, though he felt not the slightest pain, 
emitted scream after scream. ''Hush, dearie, 
hush,'’ crooned his mother, kneeling down and 
rocking him in her arms. Then, turning to her 
husband, she cried angrily, in that piercing voice 
of hers, "Oh, I just wish I was a man. Td show 
that Mr. Grab." 

As usual, this aroused her husband, and step- 
ping from among the wondering guests (many 
of wdiom, knowing Willie pretty well, were glad 
that he'd gotten his deserts), he advanced toward 
Grab, who amid all the turmoil had still clung to 
the teakwood box, and caught that unfortunate 
individual by the lapel of his coat. 

"See here, you," cried he, shaking his fist in 
the latter's face; "didn't I warn you never to 
touch that boy again? What do you mean by 
such dirty actions ? Explain yourself." 

"There is nothing to explain," replied Grab 
sullenly. "The child is vicious." 

"Oh, indeed !" interposed Emma angrily. 
"He's not half as vicious as you are. And if "l 
were a man. I'd have a little more pride about 
me than to torment a poor, inoffensive child." 

"Now, Emma, don't say tliat," interjected Phil, 
moved to speak by the injustice of her remark. 
"I was in the room with Mr. Grab the whole 
time ; and if there was any tormenting going on, 
it was on Willie's side. He was worrying Mr. 
Grab continually." 

"Were you?" asked Emma, turning to Willie. 

‘T didn't do nothing," cried that promising 
young oflFspring brazenly. 

"Now, Willie, tell the truth," urged Phil* 


Odd Types 


247 


"I am telling the truth,” persisted Willie. 

“That shows my theory is correct,” com- 
mented Phil sadly. “We are evil minded from 
our birth.” 

‘Wes — you ought to be ashamed of yourselves, 
the both of you,” retorted Emma. 

“Do you believe that little brat!” blurted out 
Grab, exasperated at the false accusations that 
had been brought against him. 

“Did you hear that, Joe? Did you hear that?” 
cried Emma excitedly, rising from her kneeling 
position. “Did you hear what he called your 
child ? If you wish to stay here, and be insulted, 
do so, but I won’t. Where’s my hat ?” she 
screeched. “I’ll not remain in this house another 
moment,” and grabbing Willie by the hand, she 
rushed to the door. “As for you,” she added, 
turning to Grab, “I’ll have the law on you, sir, 
as. sure as you’re bom. I’ll have the law on you,” 
and with that threat, she dashed down the stairs, 
dragging Willie after her. 

“Yes,” cried Joe, following in his wife’s wake, 
his naturally red face now almost purple, “we’ll 
have the law on you, sir, as sure as you’re born.” 

Miranda, distressed at this untoward incident, 
which tended to spoil what had been otherwise a 
very pleasant evening, hurried after the pair, in 
the hope that she could turn them from their pur- 
pose. But her efforts were of no avail. Emma 
was furious — not only at Grab, but at Phil also, 
and vowed she’d never step foot in that house 
again. 

When Miranda came back to the reception 
room, she found the rest of the guests also making 


248 


Odd Types 


ready for departure ; and in spite of her protesta- 
tions, they one by one began to take their leave. 

All had gone now, except Mrs. Shoddy, 
Minerva, Brief, Felice and Grab (the last, with 
the teakwood box as firmly as ever under his 
arm), and these, too, were making toward the 
door, when Demos, who all this time had been 
in the drawing room^ rearranging the manuscript 
which in the flurry caused by Willie had become 
disarranged, came in by the opposite entrance. 
He still had the papers in his hand, and was ap- 
parently so deeply engrossed in their contents 
that he was not cognizant of his surroundings. 

'T shall begin thus,” said he aloud to himself, 
his eyes fastened on the page before him, “Mr. 
Speaker : Standing here as I do ” 

'Why don’t you sit down?” suggested Felice 
facetiously, as he followed the others out of the 
room. 

“Eh ! What !” exclaimed Demos, looking up. 
“Hello! where are the rest?” he asked, seeing be- 
fore him only Phil Gloom and Brief. 

“All gone,” answered Phil, with a suggestive 
emphasis on the “gone.” 

“Gone,” exclaimed Demos, taking out his re- 
peater, and looking at it. “Well, well, I had no 
idea it was so late. Hm! let me see. Why, I 
have just ten minutes to catch my train. Are you 
coming along, Jim ?” he added, addressing Brief. 

“I can’t, Demos,” answered Brief, acting upon 
a gesture from Phil. “I’ve a matter in town to 
attend to to-morrow morning.” 

“Then I’ll say good-night,” said Demos, bow- 
ing to Brief ; and then turning to Qoom, he began 


Odd Types 


249 


pompously, ‘TVTy dear friend, Phil, before leaving 
I want to express to you how much — how very 
much 

'‘You'll miss that train," interrupted Gloom 
sharply. 

"Ah, true," said Demos, disconcerted. "Good- 
night," and stiffly walked away. 

"You wish to see me, Mr. Gloom?" asked 
Brief, as soon as Demos had disappeared. 

"Yes. Let us go into the library," said Gloom, 
leading the way. "There we will be secure from 
disturbance." 

As soon as Brief and he were within it, Gloom 
carefully locked the door, and turning toward 
Brief, exclaimed in heart-broken accents, "It's 
all over. Brief. Miranda is false to me, and we 
must part," and then, with a strong effort com- 
posing himself, he handed Brief, Felice's letter. 

"This is very damaging, I must confess," said 
Brief, after perusing the epistle carefully. "How 
did you get it?" 

With quivering lips, Phil recounted the cir- 
cumstances, being forced, by his agitation, to stop 
in his recital several times. 

"Well," queried the lawyer, as Phil concluded, 
"what do you intend to do ?" 

"Two things. Brief," returned Phil. "First, 
show Miranda the sort of man Felice is, and 
when I have set him before her in his true light, 
leave her. Felice no doubt will remain here as 
usual, to-night and to-morrow. In the morning, 
therefore, I shall send for Dolly, and confront 
him with her. Don't leave town till you heai 
from me." 


250 


Odd Types 


Brief, perceiving that Phil was in no mood to 
be trifled with, promised to do his bidding, and 
preceded by his host, started down the stairs. 

Meanwhile, the last of the guests having de- 
parted, Miranda and Felice (who, as Phil had 
surmised, intended to remain until the next day) 
finally found themselves in the reception room, its 
sole occupants. Feeling ill at ease, she knew not 
why, Miranda was anxious to be alone ; and so. 
after arranging for a drive in the morning, she 
bid Felice good-night, and retired. After smok- 
ing a cigar, Felice followed her exam.ple. 

And so it happened, that when Phil accom- 
panied Brief (who thought it best not to remain, 
for fear of exciting suspicion) to the outer door, 
they met not a soul on the way, even the servants 
having long since sought their rest. 


Odd Types 


251 


CHAPTER XV. 

REVELATIONS. 

Upon reaching her bedroom, Miranda, Instead 
of retiring, threw herself, dressed as she was, in 
the rocking chair, and fell to reviewing the inci- 
dents of the evening. She had not gone far in 
her reflections, before the quietness of Phil and 
his non-participation in the evening’s diversions 
recurred to her forcibly — dwarfing all other oc- 
currences into insignificance. Now, for the first 
time, she noted that immediately after Emma’s 
departure, Phil had disappeared, and had not 
again come to view. Whither had he gone? To 
his library, probably. But why to his library? 
Why had he not, at least, done her the courtesy 
of assisting her in bidding their guests adieu? 
Why had he withdrawn without a word of ex- 
planation? Was he avoiding her? If so, why^ 
What had she done to deserve such cutting in- 
attention? Surely, the mere fact that she occa- 
sionally entertained, though not to his liking, 
could not be the cause for such coldness. Was 
there a stronger reason? Was Felice right? 
Was there another woman? The thought gave 
her a pang. If such were the case, did she de- 
serve it? Why did Phil take these innocent 


^ 5 ^ 


Odd Types 


amusements of hers so seriously, and make them 
the pretext for such unkind treatment? No, no 
—there must be something else behind it all, an i 
if there was, she would find it out on the mor- 
row, even if compelled to humble her pride, and 
question Phil himself. 

Somehow, to-night, she felt uncomfortable. 
She had an uncanny feeling, as though some dan- 
ger were impending. Perhaps, she said to her- 
self, it was because she was tired. She would 
see. She would try to sleep. She would not un- 
dress, but remain where she was. And so, lean- 
ing back her head, with her hands lying loosely 
in her lap, this woman who, though perhaps in- 
discreet, was pure of heart, sank by degrees into 
peaceful slumber, the familiarities of Felice, if 
they had made any impression at all, having 
apparently faded entirely from the tablets of her 
memory. 

With Felice, however, the case was different. 
As he lay there in the dark reflecting, he recalled 
again and again, with passionate joy, the many 
advances he had made toward Miranda, and how 
favorably (at least, so it seemed to him) they had 
been received. At last, the goal was within reach. 
Miranda, he now considered as good as con- 
quered. To put a finishing touch to his conquest, 
it only required that she should find Phil em- 
broiled elsewhere. In his own mind, and judg- 
ing Gloom by his own standard, he felt convinced 
that such was the fact. So, before falling asleep, 
he resolved to make a special effort to discover the 
intrigue, and then, playing the role of a sincere 
friend, reveal it all to Miranda, 


Odd Types 


253 


While thoughts so diversified were passing 
through the minds of Miranda and Felice, reflec- 
tions of an entirely different trend were engaging 
the attention of Phil. As he sat in his library, so 
quietly that he scarce seemed to breathe, there 
was surging within his breast a tumult of em(> 
tions, such as he had never experienced in his 
life before. At one moment, his anger rose so 
high, that he leaped from his chair with the firm 
intention of going to Felice’s room, and doing 
him violence. At another, his despair became so 
deep, that he found himself on the verge of plan- 
ning suicide. Amid all these vacillations,^ how- 
ever, though he believed Miranda guilty, his love 
for her shone steadily, like a star above a tur- 
bulent sea. Gradually, calmer thoughts pre- 
vailed. ‘‘Perhaps,” thought he, “I may accom- 
plish two things at one time. If Felice is not 
totally without manliness, he may marry Dolly, 
and that will prove an effective cure for Miranda’s 
infatuation. If he does not, still the disclosure of 
his libertinism will serve to disenchant her. In 
either event, therefore, he will be deprived of 
what he has been at such great pains to obtain. 
His discomfiture shall be my revenge.” And then, 
his thoughts reverted to himself. Alas, he almost 
feared to look into the future. Without Miranda, 
it would be a bleak world indeed. Probably, 
though, his suffering would not be for long, and 
very likely his grief would bring him quickly to 
his journey’s end. If so, he, for one, would not 
regret it. And with that reflection, his eyes also 
closed, and soon were locked in dreamless slum- 
ber. 


^54 


Odd Types 


The next day broke mi!d and clear, and almost 
with the rise of the sun, Phil awoke. If anything, 
his heart was heavier than on the night before. 
The future appeared so desolate that several 
times he was almost inclined to abandon his plans, 
and without a struggle let matters drift as they 
would. But, in the end, the sense of the injury 
that had been done him, brought his resolution 
back to him, and after a perfunctory toilet and 
light breakfast, he left the house, and walked 
briskly into the village. Since there were dis- 
agreeable tasks to be done, he told himself, the 
sooner they were over, the better. Going to the 
telegraph office, therefore, he hired a messenger, 
and despatched him with a note to Dolly. He 
merely wrote her that the time to fulfill her prom- 
ise had come, and that he would expect her at his 
house without fail that forenoon at eleven o'clock. 
Then, promising the boy something extra if he 
were speedy, he walked across the street to the 
hotel where Brief usually stopped when in town, 
to await the lad's return. While waiting, Phil 
inquired after Brief, but was informed that that 
gentleman had not yet come down for breakfast. 

Incited by the prospect of a reward, young 
Mercury for once seemed to possess winged feet, 
and fairly flew on his errand. In a remarkably 
short interval he reappeared, and having deliv- 
ered the note in reply, received from Phil a sub- 
stantial recompense for having so bravely run 
counter to the traditions of his calling. 

Dolly's answering missive, after expressing 
doubt as to the wisdom of her appearance at his 
home, declared that since he insisted upon it, she 


Odd Types 


255 


would obey ; for he was truly her benefactor, and 
the one being in the world whom she really es- 
teemed. He could expect her, she added in a post- 
script, promptly at the hour named. This matter 
having been satisfactorily arranged, Phil, after 
leaving a note for Brief, again turned his steps 
homeward. Upon nearing the house, he saw his 
own carriage, containing Miranda and Felice, 
emerge from the gateway. Turning to the right, 
it started off at once at a lively trot. Being quite 
far in the rear, neither of its occupants observed 
him. As he watched the vehicle rolling rapidly 
away, and throwing up great clouds of dust be- 
hind it, Phil’s heart filled with bitterness. Yes, 
he would be relentless. Miranda had chosen her 
course, and now she must take the consequences. 

Meanwhile, after passing rapidly from one sub- 
ject to another, Miranda with considerable 
adroitness, led Felice to a discussion of Phil’s re- 
cent conduct, while, at the same time, she made a 
pretence of desiring to avoid it. Felice, nothing 
loth, took up the subject eagerly, and in that care- 
less manner of his, which so well concealed the 
devilishness of his purpose, insisted that the solu- 
tion would be found by employing the old French 
talisman ‘'cherchez la femme.” In conclusion, 
seeing an opportunity to flatter, he added : ‘‘Some 
men cannot be blamed if they seek distraction else- 
where, but in Phil’s case it seems unaccountable. 
In your place, I would certainly retaliate, and \ 
know of one, at least, who would help you,” and 
then he shot a glance at her that spoke volumes. 
Ordinarily, Miranda would have resented such a 
remark with deep indignation, but as it was, she 


256 


Odd Types 


scarcely heard it. She was occupied in trying to 
recall all the women with whom Phil had, since 
their marriage, been thrown in contact, but cudgel 
her memory as she would, she could not remember 
one to whom she could point as the possible Circe. 
Felice, after uttering one or two more remarks 
without eliciting any reply, also lapsed into si- 
lence, and during the last half hour of their drive 
hardly a word was exchanged between them. 

In the meantime, on the stroke of eleven, Phil, 
who had been on the watch in the garden, saw 
Dolly’s trim, little figure coming up the road, her 
whole carriage suggesting the demureness of a 
school girl, but informed with a gracefulness that 
was all her own. After a word of welcome, given, 
however, with such a sad, distrait air as to cause 
Dolly to wonder what had happened, Phil con- 
ducted her to the rear of the house, and unob- 
served by any of its inmates, led her up a side 
stairs into his library. As Phil walked forward 
and seated himself in his armchair, Dolly, letting 
her eyes rove about the room timidly, stood stock- 
still, like a fawn scenting danger. 

^‘Sit down,” said Phil, pointing to a chair oppo- 
site him. Dolly did as she was bid, at the same 
time glancing at Phil sympathetically ; for his face 
plainly showed that some great sorrow was 
weighing heavily upon him. 

“Dolly,” said he, speaking in that slow, dis- 
jointed way, which always indicates a mind pre- 
occupied, “the time has come to put Mr. Felice 
to the test. He is out just now, but will return 
shortly. Before he arrives, I want to know one 


Odd Types 257 

thing: Are you still of the same mind as you 
were when I last saw you?’’ 

'‘Oh, Mr. Gloom/’ replied Dolly, "you have 
already done for me more than I can ever repay. 
But persuade Mr. Felice to marry me, and you 
will make me the happiest woman in the world.” 

"Are you sure, Dolly?” asked Phil, looking at 
her very intently. 

"Oh, sir, positive.” 

Phil seemed puzzled. He could not understand 
how a woman, maltreated as Dolly had been, 
could still retain any affection for a man who had 
done her such grievous injury. He did not know . 
that it was not love, but the spirit of revenge, by 
far the stronger of the two, that was animating 
the lowly creature before him. 

"Do you know,” he queried, speaking very 
slowly, "what sort of man it is to whom you are 
willing to entrust your future ?” 

"I know,” sighed Dolly, "I know he has many 
faults ; but I hope that my love for him will help 
to correct them.” 

"I echo that hope most heartily,” remarked 
Phil sadly, "as much for my sake as for yours. 
But suppose,” he added, "your expectations are 
not realized?” 

"Not realized?” reiterated Dolly in surprise. 
"Do you think” — and her heart palpitated as 
she put the question — "do you think he’ll refuse 
me ?” 

"It is hard to tell,” replied Phil. "Felice is a 
thoroughly selfish man, and like all such, only 
does what conduces to his own benefit. If he 
sees in anything any advantage for himself, it 


258 


Odd Types 


matters little to him how his acts may affect an- 
other. If, then, he agrees to our proposition, 
which is very possible, will you promise that if 
your union turns out unhappily, you will not 
blame me?*' 

‘‘Blame you V exclaimed Dolly. “Why should 

ir 

“Because,” answered Phil, “I will confess, I 
have a selfish motive in this matter, and I do not 
wish you afterwards to think that I suggested this 
marriage merely to further my own ends.” 

“Oh, I could never think that of you,” cried 
Dolly, in accents truly sincere. “If my marriage 
with Mr. Felice should help you in any way, it 
would only redouble my happiness.” 

“I believe you, Dolly,” returned Phil, affected 
by the girl’s gratefulness. Then, with a touch of 
his usual pessimism, he added: “Oh, what a 
cursed world it is, where the humane suffer and 
the heartless are always triumphant. Ah, Dolly, 
it had been better far for both of us if our hearts 
had not been so warm.” 

“Oh, don’t say that, Mr. Gloom,” returned 
Dolly, who only half comprehended his meaning. 
“Don’t say that. See, how happy you are !” 

“Happy!” repeated Gloom, mockingly. “Hap- 
py! No, Dolly,” he added, resuming his sad 
monotone, “I don’t know what ‘happy’ means. I 
never knew. Until lately, however, if I was not 
happy, at least I was not wretched. But now — 

now ” and overcome with emotion, his voice 

broke, and bowing his head, he covered his face 
with his hands, as though to conceal the signs of 


Odd Types 


259 

his agitation, his frame the while trembling with 
suppressed feeling. 

‘'Oh,'' cried Dolly, going down on her knees 
beside him, and placing her hands sympathetically 
on his arm, “can it be possible that you, who are 
so good — so just — that you also suffer?" 

Dolly had hardly uttered these words, when 
Felice, who with Miranda had returned from 
their ride, chanced to pass the door. He was 
about to enter, when what he beheld stopped him. 

“Aha !" he muttered triumphantly, not recog- 
nizing Dolly, who had her back towards him, “I 
always suspected as much," and hurriedly re- 
tracing his steps, he hastened to the reception 
room below, where he had left Miranda disen- 
cumbering herself of her wraps. 

“Quick," said he, “come with me. I want to . 
show you something," and taking her by the hand 
he hurried her toward the stairs, which they as- 
cended together. They were almost at the top, 
when unluckily Felice's foot slipped, and striking 
against the side of the baluster made quite a 
noise. 

At the sound, Phil, who was stroking Dolly’s 
head reassuringly, jumped up. “There he is !" he 
exclaimed excitedly, and lifting the astonished 
girl to her feet, pulled her incontinently toward 
the little room adjoining. “Here, go in here," he 
added, under his breath, “and don't come out till 
I call you," and before Dolly, in her bewilder- 
ment, could frame a word of inquiry, pushed the 
door to, 

Phil had hardly taken a step back into the 
library, when Felice and Miranda arrived at the 


26o 


Odd Types 


door — only to find Phil, standing with his back 
toward them, alone. 

“Pshaw,'*' whispered Felice to his mystified 
companion, “they heard us coming." 

“They?" asked Miranda. “Who?" 

“Come back in a few minutes, and Pll ex- 
plain," replied Felice, peering about him with a 
searching gaze. 

“Why not now?" queried Miranda. 

Felice made a gesture of impatience. “Do as I 
tell you," he whispered, “and you'll not regret it." 

Though puzzled at Felice's strange words and 
still stranger actions, Miranda made no further 
remonstrance, but in obedience to his request, 
proceeded down the hall to her bedroom. Felice 
entered the library. As he advanced, his eye rov- 
ing about, caught sight of a portion of Dolly’s 
skirt (which Phil in his haste had squeezed in the 
doorway), being slowly withdrawn by its owner. 
At the same time, Phil, hearing Felice's footfall 
near him, turned around. To his chagrin, he dis- 
covered the latter watching the telltale skirt, his 
head popped forward, as though trying to assure 
himself that he saw aright. When it finally had 
passed out of view, Felice, with a smile mock- 
ingly deprecating, raised his eyes toward Phil, 
and winked. Phil, however, pretending not to 
have observed it, reseated himself in his arm- 
chair. 

“Fine day, to-day," remarked Felice laugh- 
ingly. “I trust," he added, looking meaningly at 
the door, “Pm not disturbing you." 

“Not in the least," replied Phil gruffly, irritated 
at Felice's discovery of Dolly's presence. “In 


Odd Types 


261 


fact, it’s well you’re here, for I have something to 
say to 3^ou — something serious.” 

“Fire away,” said Felice, throwing himself 
carelessly into the chair which Dolly only a short 
time before had vacated. 

“What I am about to speak of,” returned Phil, 
coldly, scarce able to conceal his repugnance 
toward the man, “has reference to something that 
occurred some years ago. Felice,” he added, his 
tone suddenly becoming very earnest, “do you 
ever think of the past?” Felice, who had been 
fitting his finger tips together with nice precision, 
stopped, and looked at Phil inquiringly. “If you 
do,” continued Phil, “are there not some things 
that cause you regret, and for which you would 
make amends, if you could?” 

“Why, what is this?” asked Felice flippantly. 
“Are you going to preach a sermon ?” 

“I know you’re irreverent,” retorted Phil, try- 
ing hard to keep cool. “I know you obey no law, 
and respect nothing except your own base pas- 
sions, yet I wish to give you one chance to redeem 
yourself. I ” 

“Redeem myself,” laughed Felice, Interrupting. 
“Ha ! ha ! Phil, you’re certainly refreshing, to say 
the least. When it comes to redemption, base 
passions, and all that, how about yourself?” and 
Felice again looked meaningly at the door. 

“Don’t class me with you, sir,” cried Phil, now 
jumping up angrily. “Before I am through, you’ll 
find I know more about you than you think, and 
it’s not very creditable either.” 

“Oh, come, come,” said Felice, “cool down, 
Phil, cool down.” Then bending forward, he 


262 


Odd Types 


whispered : 'Why don’t you trot her out, and let 
me see her? Pretty, eh?” and he winked in a 
way that to Phil was most exasperating. 

“Before I answer that question, with its dirty 
insinuations,” replied Phil very loudly, 'T wish to 
ask one of you. Do you remember, among your 
victims, a certain girl named Dolly Dash ?” 

At the mention of that name, Felice gave a 
start. “See here, Phil,” cried he, now in his turn 
becoming angry, “what are you driving at? By 
Jove, I don’t like the way you choose your words 
a bit. Besides, how does Dolly Dash concern 
you ?” 

“Ah !” answered Phil, “then you do recall her ?” 

“Certainly,” replied Felice, with a toss of the 
head. “I don’t deny it.” 

“And have you never felt remorse at the wav 
you’ve treated her ?” asked Phil. 

“Remorse,” repeated Felice, “for the way I 
treated her! Why should I? She cost me a 
pretty penny, before I could get rid of her. I 
know that.” 

“Suppose,” said Phil, “that in spite of your un- 
kindness, this poor girl still loved you, would you 
be willing, as a compensation for her past misery 
(and in spite of your denial, you know in your 
own heart that you were the sole cause of it), 
would you be willing to give her the protection of 
your name ?” 

“Protection of my name?” exclaimed Felice in 
surprise. “Do you mean, marry her?” Phil 
nodded, “Ha! ha!” laughed Felice derisivelj, 
“Say, Phil, have you gone insane ?” 


Odd Types 263 

‘'Not in the least/’ replied Phil, unmoved. ‘M 
repeat, would you marry her ?” 

“Why, I should think you could answer that 
yourself,” said Felice, beginning to feel uneasy 
under Phil’s earnest persistency. 

“Perhaps,” returned Phil ; “but for certain rea- 
sons I prefer to have you answer it.” 

“Why, most certainly not,” replied Felice. “A 
fine announcement that would be,” he added 
sneering, “Married — Charles Felice, gentleman, 
and Dolly Dash, late mistress of Blank. You 
must be out of your senses even to broach such a 
question.” 

“Then, sir,” said Phil, trembling with indigna- 
tion, “you are far more despicable than even I 
ever thought you.” 

“What’s that,” cried Felice, instantly on his 
feet and advancing menacingly towards Phil, his 
eyes Hashing with anger. “By Jove, this is going 
too far. What do you mean ?” 

“Just what I say,’" replied Phil unflinchingly. 
“A man, who will ruin a young girl, and then 
throw her helpless upon the world, is worse than 
a beast. He’s 3 craven cur, and,” cried Phil, 
worked up now to w^hite heat, “that’s what you 
are.” 

As Phil uttered these words, Felice raised his 
clenched fist as though to strike him, when 
Miranda, who had just entered the room, sud- 
denly came between them. 

“Dear me,” cried she, “what is this — a quar- 
rel?” 

“Pardon me,” said Felice, seeing in a flash how 
he could turn the situation to his own advantage. 




264 


Odd Types 


‘If I lost my temper, I had good cause. Were 
that man the husband of any other woman, Td 
make him pay for his insults dearly.’’ 

As Felice thus spoke with fine dramatic effect, 
Miranda glanced at Phil, as if asking for an ex- 
planation. But the latter contented himself by 
merely glancing at Felice contemptuously. 

‘"Have you nothing at all to say?” at length 
asked Miranda, disgusted at Phil’s silence. 

'Tn former times, madam,” replied Phil coldly, 
'T would have been able to say a great deal ; but 
under present conditions, knowing it will be of no 
avail, I consider it best to be silent.” 

‘That may be your course,” cried Felice, 
thinking that now he had Phil at a disadvantage, 
“but it won’t be mine. You’ve played the hypo- 
crite long enough, and I intend to unmask you. 
When I see such a noble, trusting woman as Mrs. 
Gloom, so basely deceived, I believe it my duty to 
open her eyes.” Then turning toward Miranda, 
he continued : “Ask your husband, if you please, 
to explain why he has brought a woman into the 
house so secretly, and concealed her in that 
room ?” 

“Is that true ?” exclaimed Miranda, startled. 

“It is,” replied Phil quietly. 

“Phil,” cried Miranda, aghast at her husband's 
cool admission, “you acknowledge it! And so 
shamelessly to my face 1 Have you no regard 
any more, if not for me, at least for your own 
reputation ?” 

“I have a greater regard for it, madame, I as- 
sure you, than you have.” 

“Oh, Phil, what has come over you — so cold. 


Odd Types 


265 

so unkind?’" cried Miranda, advancing toward 
him, with clasped hands outstretched before her. 

As she approached, Phil turned from her. 

“What,” cried Miranda, infuriated at the re- 
pulse, “you, who have sinned so deeply, do not 
want even my forgiveness? Very well, sir,'’ 
added she, drawing herself up haughtily, “here- 
after you’ll not get it, even if you beg for it on 
your knees. This woman — who is she? I de- 
mand to see her.” 

At this juncture. Brief, whose arrival none of 
those in the room had hitherto observed, entered 
the library. 

“Ah, Brief,” said Phil, immediately espying 
him, “you have come just in time.” 

“Yes,” exclaimed Felice, in his most sarcastic 
tones, going toward the door of the room where 
Dolly was, “just in time to see the sort of client 
you have.” As he put his hand on the door knob, 
he turned again to Miranda. “Do you really 
wish to face this degraded creature ?” he asked. 

“If she is degraded, it’s you who made her so,” 
tartly retorted Phil, as Miranda by an imperative 
gesture, indicated that she did. Felice, not grasp- 
ing Phil’s meaning in the least, now pulled the 
door wide open and started to go in. But before 
he could carry out his intention, Dolly came for- 
ward, and Felice, recognizing her on the instant, 
drew back. 

“Ha,” he cried, disconcertedly, “it’s a trap.” 

Without paying any attention to his exclama- 
tion, Dolly, who had heard the greater part of 
what had been said, swept by him, and rushing 
up to Miranda, tried to grasp her hand — ^but the 


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latter, stepping back, gathered her skirts about 
her, and eyed her disdainfully. 

‘‘Ah, madam,’' exclaimed Dolly, abashed by the 
rebuff, “you shrink from me ! True, I have not 
always been good, but I assure you that in this 
instance your thoughts wTong me. It is true, 
your husband invited me here, but he did it to do 
me a kindness — a kindness, alas ! which I see now 
is wholly beyond his power.” 

“Indeed !” commented Miranda, in an intensely 
satirical tone, her lips curling in scorn. “And is 
it permissible to know what this kindness was to 
be?” 

Before Dolly could reply, Felice, who had been 
pacing the floor uneasily, perceiving that if the 
girl were allowed to proceed, she would be sure 
to implicate him, interposed hastily: “I advise 
you not to press this woman, Mrs. Gloom. You'll 
never get the truth from her anyway.” 

As P'elice spoke, Phil made a movement as if to 
reply, but Brief laying his hand on Gloom’s arm 
restrained him. Briefs act was timely ; for 
hardly had the words passed from Felice's lips, 
when Dolly, stung by his aspersion upon her 
veracity, turned sharply upon him, and said in a 
quavering voice: “Oh, what a coward you are, 
Charles Felice! Not content with the suffering 
you have brought upon me, you now try to de- 
grade me still more in this lady’s eyes, by attack- 
ing my truthfulness. Oh, madam, beware of that 
man,” continued Dolly, again turning to Miranda, 
who now in amazement was looking from one to 
the other. “Had I never seen him, I would still 
be an honest girl, and could hold up my head as 


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267 

high as you do yours. You would not then have 
dared to doubt me, as I see you do now.^ But 
because I have been too trustful, because in my 
innocence, I believed everything he told me, and 
allowed him in my weakness to lead me to my 
ruin, every one seems to think he has a right to 
insult and humiliate me. Ah, madam,^’ went on 
Dolly, her voice faltering, her bosom heaving 
with suppressed emotion, and the tears beginning 
to creep into her eyes, “no one knows how fear- 
fully I have been punished for my sin, if sin it 
was, to trust the man I loved.’’ 

While Dolly was speaking, Felice, with a sneer 
on his lips, pretended to be listening with indif- 
ference, but in reality he was watching Miranda’s 
countenance closely. What he saw there caused 
him alarm. At first, came an expression of in- 
credulity, and then, one of doubt, and finally a 
look of compassion. This would never do, he told 
himself. He must remove these impressions at 
once. So, as Dolly finished, Felice with an as- 
sumed air of indignation exclaimed : 

“Very ingenious, miss, but in this instance your 
cleverness is thrown away. One who does not 
know this class,” he continued, addressing Miran- 
da, “would be apt to be deceived by the frank 
manner in which they tell their invented tales. 
Caught in a compromising position, this girl is 
now trying to revenge herself by dragging me 
into the matter.” 

“Oh, Charles ” began Dolly reproachfully, 

but Miranda motioned her to be silent. Address- 
ing Felice, she asked: “Do you know this girl?” 

“Yes,” replied Felice. “I have seen her a num- 


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ber of times in various restaurants in New York, 
and I have been told she is a very dangerous 
woman/' Miranda seemed beginning to waver. 
‘Why," continued Felice, bent on discrediting 
Dolly altogether, “do you for a moment put any 
faith in this thin yarn of hers? If your husband 
had really wanted to do her a kindness, as she 
claims, was it necessary for him to bring her 
here secretly, and without your knowledge ? 
Don't you see it's a trick ?" 

This argument seemed to have the desired 
effect, and to convince Miranda that her first sus- 
picions were justified. She turned, therefore, in- 
dignantly toward Phil. As she did so, Dolly, per- 
ceiving her intention of upbraiding him, again 
stepped before her, this time with outstretched 
hands : 

“Oh, madam," she cried, “do not act hastily. 
Mr. Gloom has been so kind to me, I cannot bear 
to see him treated unjustly. I swear by all that's 
sacred that he is innocent of all wrong." 

“And if you were to swear a hundred times," 
cried Miranda angrily, “do you think I would be- 
lieve you? Your very anxiety on his behalf con- 
victs you both." 

“Never mind, Dolly," interposed Phil, in a 
husky voice, as the girl was about to reply. “It 
is useless to say any more." Then, turning to his 
wife, he added : “Even if all you suspect were 
true, even if I were so vile as you think me, it 
would only be a fit punishment for your own in- 
famous conduct." 

“My infamous conduct!" exclaimed Miranda, 
taken aback at this sudden turn of the tables. 


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269 


^‘Yours, madam!’" replied Phil, with emphasis. 

“What does this mean, I wonder,"" muttered 
Felice. 

“Do you,"" continued Phil, taking out of his 
pocket the incriminating letter which he had 
found the evening before, and handing it to 
Miranda, “do you recognize that handwriting?” 

As Phil put this question. Brief, feeling that 
some disclosures were about to be made which it 
were better for Dolly not to hear, motioned to her 
to follow him, and leading the way downstairs, 
told her that she could best serve Gloom by going 
home. She would probably, he said, hear from 
Gloom or himself within a very few days. When 
Brief returned to the library, he saw Miranda 
reading the letter silently, while Phil was stand- 
ing with an expression of sadness, watching her, 
and Felice was staring at both with a look of won- 
der on his countenance. 

It took Miranda only a few minutes to finish 
her perusal, and as she did so, her face became 
blanched and troubled. 

“Do you acknowledge,"" asked Phil, with grim 
sternness, “that that letter was written to you by 
Mr. Felice?"" 

“My letter!"" muttered that individual. “By 
Jove, it lakes a woman to be stupid."" 

“Oh, Phil,"" exclaimed Miranda, letting the let- 
ter fall, and raising her arms in a gesture of de- 
spair, “this is terrible. I have never wronged 
you in deed, or thought. Believe me, Phil, never 
in deed or thought."" 

“Did you not receive that letter?"" persisted 
Phil pitilessly. 


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*‘Oh, if I did, Phil, it was all an awful error. 

I swear I am innocent. Ask Mr. Felice himself.” 

'‘Yes, Phil,” interposed Felice, who saw him- 
self about to be put in the unenviable position of 
a corespondent, and not much relishing the pros- 
pect, "you do your wife a great injustice by your 
suspicion. I know of no woman more pure of 
mind or heart.” 

"And yet, without any encouragement, without 
the slightest inducement, do you mean to say that 
you boldly penned such a letter !” exclaimed Phil, 
now letting his anger loose. "Do you two think 
you have a child to play with? Do you two 
think, for a moment, that in the face of such evi- 
dence, I will believe your lying protestations? 
No, no — my time of blindness is past, and I see 
clearly — only too clearly — nowl” 

"Oh, come — this is nonsense,” returned Felice 
nervously. 

"Nonsense!” cried Phil. 'T)o you deny the 
letter ?” 

"Not at all,” answered Felice. Frankness was 
Felice's usual weapon for disarming suspicion. 
"I admit I wrote it. But what then ? It was only 
a bit of pleasantry.” 

"Ha ! ha 1 ha !” laughed Phil, bitterly. "Did you 
hear that. Brief? A bit of pleasantry!” Brief 
smiled faintly in sympathy. Then, of a sudden 
changing from calmness into frenzy, Phil turning 
on Felice, cried : "You lying cur ! You con- 
temptible rake 1 Out of my house ! Do you hear ? 
Out of my house !” And he made a movement 
as if he would rush at him. 

"Oh, Mr. Brief,” implored Miranda, "speak to 


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271 


him — speak to him. Bring him back to reason.” 

'‘Contain yourself, Mr. Gloom,” said Brief, 
stepping between Phil and Felice. 

“Pll do nothing of the kind,” cried Phil, now 
beside himself with rage. “No, no. That man 
has wrecked my happiness. He has ruined mv 
home. He ” 

“Oh, Phil, listen — hear me,” exclaimed Miran- 
da, in an agony of despair, trying to catch hold of 
her husband's hand. 

“Pll not listen !” cried Phil, tearing his hand 
violently away. “You are as vile — as low, as he. 
Go, both of you, go — out of my sight ! Do you 
hear me,” screamed Phil, stamping his foot, “out 
of my sight !” 

“Come, Mrs. Gloom,” said Felice quietly, 
taking Miranda by the hand ; “your husband ap- 
pears to have lost his senses,” and urging her 
along gently, he led her, dazed and bewildered, 
out of the room. 

For a moment, Phil stood still, panting hard. 
Then suddenly sinking down into a chair, he ex- 
claimed in hoarse, agonized tones : “It is done, 
Brief. It is done. Betrayed on all sides, people 
still call me misanthrope, because I do not love 
the world. Why should I, Brief, why should I ?” 


2/2 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER XVI. 

RETURNS TO LIGHTER SCENES. 

For some time Phil was in such a state of col* 
lapse that Brief thought it best not to disturb him, 
but^ to wait until Phil himself should take the 
initiative, and resume the conversaton. Seated 
opposite, he watched Gloom silently. For a full 
hour Phil did not stir, save once, and that was 
when the house door closed with a bang. Then 
he arose, stepped to the window, gazed for a 
moment at two figures walking down the road, 
and turning around, with what seemed to Brief a 
suspicion of moisture in his eyes, silently went 
back to his armchair. Brief could see that Phil 
was making herculean efforts to conquer his 
naturally sympathetic nature, and to nerve him- 
self for what he believed to be due to his self- 
respect. 

While observing Gloom, Brief was revolving 
in his mind how he himself should act under ex- 
isting conditions. He had already had a rather 
unpleasant experience with the quarrels of mar- 
ried folk, and did not care to repeat it. In that in- 
stance, after the husband, who had been a very 
good client, had ordered him to institute a pro- 
ceeding for divorce, and had fumed and sworn 


Odd Types 


m 


that never again would he have anything to do 
with his wife, that he was through with her for- 
ever, that she was a vixen, a witch, and what not, 
that very man, when they came into court, after 
a few words from the judge, had consented to a 
reconciliation, and when Brief sent in his bill, 
abused him shamefully. So when, at the expira- 
tion of another half hour, Phil suddenly looked 
up and said in rather unsteady tones : ''Brief, you 
will prepare papers at once for a suit for divorce,’’ 
the latter did not, in spite of the prospects of a 
fine fee, jump at the proposition with alacrity. 
On the contrary, he began to hem and haw, and 
advised — though in his heart he hoped that 
Gloom would not retract — he advised that Gloom 
think it over carefully. With consummate hypoc- 
risy, he described the sorrow he felt at seeing two 
such dear friends of his at odds with each other, 
and stated that if commanded by Phil to begin 
legal proceedings, he would obey with an exceed- 
ingly heavy heart. Further, he urged that, per- 
haps, Phil had after all judged too hastily. 
Miranda might still, in spite of the condemna- 
tory circumstances, be innocent. He, for one, 
could hardly reconcile Mrs. Gloom’s hitherto 
noble, blameless life with the moral lapses of 
which Phil thought her guilty. 

"Nor can I,” answered Phil. At this reply. 
Brief’s heart almost stopped beating. He feared 
he had overshot his mark, by defending the wife 
too zealously. However, he was soon reassured, 
for Phil added bitterly : "The devil, it seems to 
me, has never been properly portrayed. Brief. He 
should have been represented in the shape of a 


274 


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beautiful woman. Ah, I am indeed to be pitied I 
I, who never put faith in any human being, when 
at length I believed I had found one in whom 1 
could trust, was foully betrayed. But,'’ he added 
fiercely, jumping up, ‘'you will prove faithful, 
Brief, eh? Yes, there is no fear of that. Remem- 
ber, I am rich. If they try to seduce you from 
me by a bribe, let me know the amount, and I will 
double — yes, treble it. I have the god that every 
one worships in these days, and so you need not 
be ashamed at remaining faithful." 

As on former occasions. Brief disclaimed any 
selfish motives in his devotion to Gloom, and as 
usual Gloom accepted his protestations for what 
he knew they were worth. If Gloom had been 
bitter against mankind in general before, he was 
doubly bitter now ; and when, finally. Brief took 
his leave, he left behind him a soul from which 
the last vestige of faith in human nature had dis- 
appeared. 

What torturing reflections afflicted Phil during 
the night that followed — what awful upheavals of 
emotion he experienced — no pen can depict. But 
when, at last, day dawned — the spirit that had 
gone to the limits of bitterness becoming over- 
strained — there occurred a revulsion. A loud 
laugh, a laugh that was hard, metallic, and with- 
out the slightest scintilla of feeling in it, an- 
nounced its advent, and Phil arose, a changed 
man. 

When Brief called on him, previous to his de- 
parture for New York, the alteration in Gloom's 
appearance and behavior astounded him. Instead 
of welcoming Brief^ as the latter had expected, 


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275 


with a dark, threatening scowl, Phil greeted him 
with a smile and a hearty handshake. Upon 
Brief commenting on this unexpected change of 
humor, Phil, with a gayety so reckless that its 
unreality was only too manifest, remarked that 
he had turned over a new leaf. “Felice is right,’’ 
said he. “Live while you may. Enjoy the day, 
and take no heed of the morrow. I have been a 
fool. Brief. I have sympathized with misery. I 
have fretted my soul with contemplation of our 
failings. I have tried to raise the fallen, and re- 
claim the criminal. I have striven to live virtu- 
ously and honorably, and now — see the result of 
it all ! No, Brief — no more philosophy for me — 
no more thought. Henceforth I, too, shall be a 
man of the world, and as hollow and as unfeeling 
as the rest of mankind. But,” concluded Phil, 
“enough of this. I have many things to do here 
to-day, otherwise I would go with you to New 
York. However, I expect to be there by the end 
of the week, and I hope by then that you will 
have the divorce papers ready.” 

Brief, promising to do his best, thereupon took 
his leave. As he passed by the post-office, he 
stepped in, and going to one of the boxes, dropped 
a letter in it, addressed to Miss Minerva Shoddy. 
Then, hurrying forth again, he reached the depot 
just in time to catch the train for New York. 

Hardly more than an hour had elapsed after 
Brief had left the post-office when any one who 
cared to watch could have seen Minerva Shoddy’s 
trim little figure stop before it, dart a look around 
to see if any one was observing her, and then 
hastily entering, insert a key in one of the letter 


276 


Odd Types 


boxes, open it, take out a letter, and blushing as 
she glanced at the superscription, hurriedly place 
it in her pocket and hasten away. Such actions 
on the part of a young lady of Minerva’s age 
would doubtless not have appeared strange to the 
observer — in fact, would have amused him; but 
what would he have said, if not long afterwards, 
he had perceived a stoutish, middle-aged woman 
going through the same manoeuvres? Yet, such 
was the case. It seemed that the same artifice 
employed by Brief and Minerva had been hit 
upon by Demos and Mrs, Shoddy, and the same 
medium which enabled the young people to ex- 
change their vows of fervent love served their 
elders for the interchange of their maturer affec- 
tions. And, strangest of all, neither of the two 
pairs suspected the other. 

Whether Minerva had been unable to wait un- 
til her arrival home before reading her letter, and 
had tarried on the way to peruse it, or whether 
she had met some acquaintance, and had had a 
chat with her, or whatever was the cause, the 
fact remains that her mother, though a very slow 
and leisurely pedestrian, arrived home before her. 
Mrs. Shoddy, who had just taken Demos’s letter 
out of her bosom, when she heard Minerva’s foot- 
step in the hall, hastily thrust it back again, and 
in her excitement, forgetting to remove her hat, 
threw herself into a rocking chair, with the in- 
tention of appearing to have been there the whole 
morning. 

‘'Why, Nervy,” she exclaimed, as her daugh- 
ter opened the door, “where in the world have 
you been so early in the day ?” 


Odd Types 


277 


'^Nowhere in particular/’ replied Minerva, 
evasively. ‘T just went out for a stroll.”' Then 
catching sight of her mother’s headgear, she 
added : “Why, mamma, I might put the sam^^ 
query to you.” 

“I haven’t been out at all, dear,” said Mrs. 
Shoddy, bold as brass, unaware of the accusatory 
headpiece. 

“You haven’t? Then why have you donned 
your hat?” asked Minerva in surprise. 

“My hat!” exclaimed Mrs. Shoddy flustered, 
as she felt of that traitorous article with her 
hand. “Gracious me, that’s so, I almost forgot. 
I was going out to the grocer’s,” and fearing that 
if she remained, her daughter might ply her with 
troublesome questions, and also to give a sem- 
blance of truth to the lie she had just uttered, she 
hurried from the room, and crossing the street, 
went into the grocery store. For a moment after 
her arrival there, she was at a loss what to order ; 
but the first thought that came to her was “sugar” 
— (though why “sugar,” and whether there is any 
psychological connection between “sugar” and 
“love” is hard to say) — and though well aware 
that she had enough in the house to supply her 
for months to come, she recklessly ordered three 
and a half pounds of it. Then, thinking she had 
effectually hoodwinked her daughter, she re- 
traced her steps. 

Now, just as her mother had left by one door, 
Minerva had departed by another, and ascending 
the stairs to her bedroom, carefully locked herself 
in. Then taking from her pocket the effusions of 
Brief, she proceeded to give herself up to the lux- 


278 


Odd Types 


ury of reading, or perhaps rereading, that gentle- 
man’s impassioned lines. After numerous ex- 
pressions of deep attachment and burning affec- 
tion — mostly taken from love passages in novels 
or plays that still chanced to linger in his memory 
— Brief came to the main purpose for which the 
letter had been written, and begged Minerva to 
find means, if it were humanly possible, to come 
to New York on the following day. He had much 
to say to her, he wrote, of serious import, which 
he could not put in a letter. 

Wondering what the matter could be, Minerva 
set herself to pondering how to carry out her 
lover’s instructions, and was still at it, when Mrs„ 
Shoddy returned. Not finding her daughter be- 
low, she naturally concluded that she had gone to 
her room to change her dress. This was an op- 
portunity for perusing Demos’s epistle too favor- 
able to miss, and so she, in turn, securing herself 
in her room, proceeded to revel in the pompous 
sentences of her Congressional admirer. As in 
his conversation, so in his letters, Demos quoted 
lengthy extracts from his various speeches, and 
it was only when Mrs. Shoddy reached the post- 
script that she learned of his receipt of her for- 
mer communication, and was informed that he 
would be on hand at the time she had mentioned, 
at the depot in New York, to meet — as he ex- 
pressed it — ‘^one who would be the future 
Speaker of the House — my house.” 

After both mother and daughter had satiated 
themselves with the epistolary efforts of their re- 
spective lovers, they again descended to the lower 
floor, and met in the sitting room. The thought 


Odd Types 


279 


uppermost in the mind of each was how to sug- 
gest a trip to New York without giving the sug- 
gestion the appearance of a preconcerted plan. 
They talked on various matters for a considerable 
length of time, but not until they chanced to touch 
upon the topic of dress did a favorable opportu- 
nity present itself of broaching the subject nearest 
the hearts of both. Then Mrs. Shoddy, in as 
innocent a manner as she could assume, re- 
marked : 

“Oh, that's so. Now, isn't it too bad that Joe 
Gloom keeps no zibeline. I'm afraid. Nervy, that 
much as I dislike it, we'll have to take a run down 
to New York to-morrow." 

“Oh, dear. I hope not," exclaimed the crafty 
Minerva. “Whenever I go down to that odious 
city, I always come back with a headache." 

“But I see no way out of it," returned her 
mother, with feigned ruefulness. Then, as if 
struck with a bright idea, she added quickly: 
“However, you needn’t go. Nervy. I know it's 
no pleasure, and since one of us must attend to 
these matters. I'll take it on my own shoulders." 

“Oh," ejaculated Minerva, with great precipi- 
tancy, “no, indeed! I wouldn’t consider such a 
proposition for a moment. Permit you to go 
alone? No^ no." 

“Why not?" asked Mrs. Shoddy, nettled. 
“Don't you think I can take care of myself?" 

"It's not that, mamma," replied her thoughtful 
daughter. “But, suppose some rude man, as often 
happens in that big city, should purloin your 
pocketbook, could you run after him ? It isn't to 
be thought of. No, mamma, however great the 


28 o 


Odd Types 


sacrifice, I shall accompany you — that' is,^’ con- 
tinued Minerva, observing her mother looking at 
her suspiciously — ‘‘if it is absolutely necessary.” 

“'Absolutely necessary !” repeated Mrs. Shoddy, 
disappointed at her daughter’s refusal to remain 
at home. “How else do you expect I can get the 
goods, you ninny?” 

“Couldn’t you indite a letter to some one of the 
large stores?” 

“And get my stuff about a year after I need it? 
How ridiculous !” remarked Mrs. Shoddy. 

“Well, then,” observed Minerva, with oh! such 
a sigh, “if we must go, we must.” 

“I suppose so,” acquiesced Mrs. Shoddy, heav- 
ing her bosom sonorously. 

And so it came to pass that this precious pair, 
after what seemed to them to be seemly hesita- 
tion, and in the belief that each had successfully 
deceived the other, eagerly examined the rail- 
road time table, and fixed upon the train that 
should carry them to New York on the morrow. 


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281 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A PARTING OF THE WAYS. 

For many days after it had occurred, Miranda 
was unable to recall, with any distinctness, what 
she had done on that awful day when Phil had so 
cruelly driven her from him. In a vague sort of 
way, she remembered that Felice had led her from 
the room, and that mechanically she had packed 
together her few belongings — those that she had 
purchased from her own savings — and leaving 
everything else, except a considerable sum of 
money which she had by her frugality hoarded 
out of the liberal allowance provided by Phil, had 
gone out of the house in the company of Felice. 
She recalled, too, that as she had looked at the 
man beside her, there had come over her for the 
first time a feeling of repugnance toward him. 
Somehow her instinct seemed to tell her that he 
was the real source 6f all her misfortunes. But 
in her then bewildered state of mind, feeling un- 
able to follow any line of thought for long, she 
had failed to trace the reasons. Poor woman, the 
humiliation, the bitter sense of injustice done her, 
and the terrible punishment meted out to her for 
what was, at most, an error of judgment on her 
part — seemed to have crushed her spirits utterly. 


282 


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and all she did as they walked along was to hang 
her head and weep. Time and again, Felice tried 
to reassure her, by predicting Phil’s early contri- 
tion, and by promising that he himself would not 
desert her in her hour of need. But all his exer- 
tions proved in vain. 

After several efforts, therefore, to calm her, and 
restore her fortitude, Felice, who was by no 
means pleased at the situation in which he found 
himself, suggested that before they go any fur- 
ther, they definitely decide upon their place of 
destination. Several times he was on the point of 
offering to take Miranda to the town hotel, but 
the thought that such an act might compromise 
them both, and involve him in an indefinite ex- 
pense, acted as a deterrent. For, though he was 
lavish enough where his own pleasures were con- 
cerned, yet he begrudged the expenditure of a 
single penny when it did not show the prospect of 
an immediate return. Several times, also, as the 
unpleasant aspect of affairs forced itself upon 
him, he did what he had seldom done before — 
cursed his luck — that is, under his breath, of 
course. He reflected with regret that if matters 
had turned out as he had planned them, instead 
of leaving her home in shame as now, Miranda 
would have been departing of her own free will, 
full of dignified resentment at Phil and of warm 
gratitude toward himself. Under those condi- 
tions, Felice believed he could have pressed his 
suit without any risk of serious consequences. 
But now, the case was entirely different. Every 
advance was fraught with danger. Every action 
was likely to prove a boomerang. At least, so 


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283 


Felice viewed It For, though he was eager 
enough to use Miranda for his own degrading 
purposes, he was not at all inclined to be placed 
in the position where the sentiment of the social 
world would compel him to marry her. In fact, 
already his fears of a suit for alienation of affec- 
tions had served to cool his ardor considerably, 
and had it not been that he believed Phil’s anger 
temporary and a reconciliation between husband 
and wife only a question of days, Felice would 
certainly have deserted Miranda on the spot. Like 
all gilded youths, and noble men of the world, 
Felice was a compound of selfishness and vicious 
instincts, covered over by a thin veneer of gentle- 
manly manners. 

They had been walking along for some twenty 
minutes, when Miranda, upon Felice’s reiterated 
request that she tell what her plans were, looked 
up tearfully, and announced, that as she knew of 
no other place of refuge, she had decided to go 
to her sister-in-law’s. At this suggestion Felice 
could hardly restrain an exclamation of delight, 
for at one stroke he saw himself, not only relieved 
of a prospective heavy expense, but also fur- 
nished with the opportunity of separating from 
Miranda without danger of reproach. That a 
man of Felice’s temperament should be anxious 
to be rid of such a melancholy dame as Miranda 
had now become, was not at all surprising. For 
Felice was one of those much-admired, gay cava- 
liers who cannot bear to look upon a female in 
distress — or in fact upon any sort of misery — 
unmoved. Not that they are overburdened with 
a sense of commiseration — not in the least. But 


284 


Odd Types 


such spirits as theirs seem fitted to float only In an 
atmosphere of gayety and light ; and when 
wretchedness comes in their way, the feeling of 
discomfort it engenders, is so unpleasant that they 
flee from it as from a plague. When, therefore, 
Miranda announced her decision, the mere pros- 
pect of release from a companionship so doleful 
restored Felice’s spirits at once ; and in spite of 
Miranda’s vigorous protests, he gallantly insisted 
on accompanying her to Joe Gloom’s home. 

That home, however, was no longer in the 
house next to the dwelling of the indefatigable 
Grab. On the pretense of wishing to escape 
Grab’s persecutions, as Emma expressed it, but 
really in order to economize, Joe had some weeks 
before removd his household to the rooms above 
his store. By this change, he had not only re- 
duced expenses, but had secured mugh greater 
comfort ; for it did away with the necessity of con- 
stantly rushing from dwelling to stor^, and con- 
versely. He also ‘had the additional advantage of 
being able to keep his business open without in- 
convenience to any hour he desired, and if at any 
time he wished to rest from his stupendous — and 
if you listened to Joe, the term ‘‘stupendous” was 
not half strong enough — labors, he needed only 
to call Emma, and be relieved. And then he could 
retire, take an hour’s nap, or refresh himself with 
a hearty lunch, with a mind tranquil and free from 
care. In fact, hardly ten minutes before Miranda 
and Felice had arrived, Joe had carried out that 
very programme, and Emma was just seating her- 
self in the rear of the store with her face toward 
the front, when Miranda and Felice entered. 


Odd Types 


285 


The moment Emma saw them, the distracted 
appearance of Miranda and anxious manner of 
Felice, at once gave her an intimation of what 
had occurred. Instinctively she divined that 
there had been a rupture between Phil and his 
wife, and that Felice had been the cause of it. 
Concealing her suspicions, however, under a 
feigned look of surprise, she immediately came 
forward to meet them, when Miranda, without a 
word, fell into her arms and began to sob. At 
Felice's suggestion, Emma led the way to her 
apartment overhead ; and asking them to excuse 
her a moment, went to summon her husband. 

Now, Joe, who, despite bad business and the 
worry commonly incident thereto, had neverthe- 
less retained a very good appetite, was at the 
time partaking of a sumptuous luncheon with 
keen delight ; and so, when Emma came in excit- 
edly and announced the arrival of the two unex- 
pected visitors, he, viewing the partly demolished 
meal, could not forbear a pang of regret. But 
when his wife whispered, '‘There's something 
gone wrong up at your brother's. Be careful of 
what 3'^ou say. If it's as I suspect, I think wed 
best side with Phil," his curiosity overcame every 
other feeling, and he arose at once to follow her. 
Preceding Joe, therefore, Emma led the ^yay 
back to tlie front room, where they found Felice, 
walking about somewhat aimlessly; viewing with 
an abstracted gaze the pictures on the wall, and 
nervously tugging at his blond mustache, while 
Miranda, all fallen in a heap, was seated in. a low 
armchair near the window — the picture of utter 
despair. 


286 


Odd Types 


Miranda evidently being in no condition to 
offer explanations, Felice took that duty upon 
himself. He. proceeded to relate what had oc- 
curred in his usual easy fashion, at times coloring 
the incidents to serve his own purposes, and mini- 
mizing the seriousness of the situation as much 
as possible. He told them how he had surprised 
Phil in a tete-a-tete with a disreputable woman, 
and how, as in duty bound, he had called Mrs. 
Gloom’s attention thereto ; how, in her presence, 
he had taxed Phil with double dealing ; and how, 
instead of making a defense, Phil had boldly ad- 
mitted it; how then, evidently in the hope of jus- 
tifying his own misdeeds, Phil had raised a great 
fuss over an innocent letter which Felice a long 
time ago had sent to Mrs. Gloom, and how he 
(Felice) had tried to explain it; but Phil would 
not listen, and became so frenzied and abusive 
that they both were forced for safety’s sake to 
leave his house. Felice added, however, that he 
believed Phil’s rage was only temporary, and that 
when it had subsided and he had come to view 
matters calmly, he would quickly see his error 
and hasten to make amends. Meanwhile, Felice 
believed it advisable for Miranda to remain away 
from Phil. He had thought to take Mrs. Gloom 
to the hotel, but as she had insisted upon coming 
to them, he had brought her there. No doubt, in 
a few days, he concluded, everything would re- 
turn to its normal state. If, for any reason, how- 
ever, it did not, he begged them to notify him; 
and leaving his address, he took his departure. 

During the course of Felice’s narration, Joe 
and Emma exchanged glances constantly — some- 


Odd Types 


287 


times of wonderment, sometimes of scepticism, 
and oftentimes of deprecation. Neither believed 
that Felice had related all ; or, if he had, that he 
had related it truthflly. And so, as soon as the 
latter’s footsteps had ceased to sound on the hall 
stairs, they turned upon poor Miranda, and 
wheeling about her like two harpies began to 
rend her with questions. So distracted was 
Miranda that it required little adroitness on their 
part to bring out the real facts. Joe thundered 
at her, and Emma screeched, until finally they 
were in possession of every detail. Then, in ac- 
cordance with Emma’s previously whispered 
admonition, Joe, with a face like a setting sun on 
a hot summer’s day, launched out into an elo- 
quent harangue about the duty of a wife to her 
husband, praised Phil to the skies, and gave it as 
his conclusion that Miranda was in the wrong. 
Emma, with her pale face and big, owl-like eyes 
helped him along at intervals with shrill interjec- 
tions of approval. For a time, poor Miranda 
gave little heed to what Joe said, but as he neared 
the end, she suddenly seemed to realize the im- 
port of his words, and became thoroughly 
aroused. 

‘T understand,” she exclaimed, with a choking 
voice, exerting her utmost strength to rise on her 
feet, ‘‘you agree with Phil. My presence here is 
unwelcome. Very well, I will go,” and making a 
step forward, she started in the direction of the 
door. In doing so, however, her agitation became 
so great that the purse she held in her hand fell 
to the floor, and opening, exposed to view a large 
roll of bills. At this unintentional disclosure, Joe 


288 


Odd Types 


and Emma caught their breaths, and at the same 
time the same thought seemed to cross the minds 
of both. On the instant, they stepped forward 
together to pick it up ; but Emma, being the 
quickest of the two, reached it first. Handling it 
reverently, she restored it to Miranda. Then to 
the latter's surprise, drawing her arm about her, 
in that soft caressing way common to all cats, she 
persuaded her to reseat herself. 

Having first, in soft, purring tones, reproached 
Miranda for thinking so hardly of them as to be- 
lieve that they would order from their door one 
of whom they both thought so much, Emma pro- 
ceeded to explain away their recent harsh de- 
meanor with exceeding cleverness. Neither she 
nor her husband, declared Emma, were versed in 
the art of deception. Whatever was in their 
thoughts, they gave utterance to, without reflec- 
tion or attempt at concealment. As a consequence, 
they had frequently made enemies unawares. To 
be sure, it would be better if they were not so 
frank and open ; but unfortunately such were 
their natures and they could not change them. 
True, they did not consider Miranda's conduct 
exactly right, but at the same time neither did 
they altogether approve of Phil's. 

‘‘Then you will let me stay here?" asked 
Miranda humbly. 

“As long as you like, dear," replied Emma, 
eyeing her sister-in-law's purse intently. 

“Why — certainly," -joined in Joe, upon a sig- 
nal from his wife, as he started to leave the room, 
“as long as you like. We are poor people, 
Miranda, just able to scrape along, but no one 


Odd Types 


289 


can ever say that we denied them a welcome/’ and 
with that remark, this generous-hearted man went 
to the regions below. Oh, Money ! thou potent 
magician ! How readily with thy touch canst 
thou transmute love into hate, and hate into love ! 

Left alone together, the two women began to 
exchange those lieart-to-heart confidences so dear 
to the feminine nature, in which each tries to fer- 
ret out the other’s inmost secrets without disclos- 
ing her own. Miranda, her self-possession ter- 
ribly shattered, was easily led by Emma to bare 
her every thought and impulse. She admitted 
that she was in the wrong in appearance, but de- 
clared and vowed that she had never been so in 
mind. 

'T believe you, dear,” remarks Emma, sympa- 
thetically. ‘Tn fact, I felt all along that if any 
one was in the wrong, it was Phil.” 

‘'And yet,” exclaimed Miranda, “you helped 
Joe to berate me ! Oh, Emma !” 

“You don’t understand, dear,” Emma hastened 
to explain. “You see, under the circumstances, I 
could not act otherwise. You know, Joe has an 
awful hot temper, and he actually thinks no one 
has the right to abuse Phil except himself. In- 
deed, he’s very touchy on the subject, so what 
could I do but agree with him ?” 

“But when you knew,” remarked Miranda re- 
provingly, “that he was wrong, why ” 

‘T didn’t dare contradict him, dear, before you. 
Opposition in public only makes him more stub- 
born. In fact, he’s like all men. They like to 
think that they have their own way; but if a 
woman is tactful, she can control ’em without 


290 


Odd Types 


their knowing it. The time to talk to Joe is when 
we are alone. To-night I^Il have a chance, and 
you’ll see how changed he’ll be in the morning.” 

There was a great deal more which the two 
women wished to say to each other, and probably 
would have said, had not their colloquy been cut 
short by the entrance of Emma’s dear little angel, 
Willie. His manner of entrance certainly sug- 
gested that of angels, for he came in flying. Pull- 
ing his cap from his head, he flung it on the sofa, 
and then throwing himself after it, landed on the 
lounge at full length. 

“Willie,” asked his mother, in as soft a tone as 
her shrill voice permitted, ''don’t you see who’s 
here?” 

Willie raised his head a moment, and descried 

Iran da seated near the door. 

•'‘Oh — yep !” replied that little savage carelessly. 

"Why don’t you say how-d’ye-do then?” con- 
tinued Emma. 

Willie was about to make an impertinent re- 
ply, when his eye was arrested by the motion of 
Miranda’s hand opening her purse, and drawing 
therefrom a quarter. Instantly Willie was up 
and advancing toward her. 

"Willie always liked me, didn’t you?” said 
Miranda, as she kissed him. "Here, dear,” she 
continued, offering Willie the coin, "is a little 
spending money.” 

"Oh, Miranda, I wish you wouldn’t,” cried 
Emma, in that deprecatory manner which parents 
always assume on such occasions, while in their 
hearts they find fault with your niggardliness, 
"you spoil him.” 


Odd Types 


291 


^'Oh, no,” returned Miranda, fondling Willie, 
'T couldn’t spoil him.” Whether that was a sar- 
casm or not, it is impossible to say. At any rate, 
Willie seemed to take it as a compliment, and 
grinned, as he nestled close to Miranda and 
turned the quarter over and over. Remarkable 
to report, for the remainder of that day, Willie 
was a paragon of goodness. Oh, Money ! — The 
reader must really pardon the author. This was 
a slip of the pen. Though, as a matter of fact, 
why not? Why should not the author occasion- 
ally apostrophize Mammon, when his fellow 
heathens are constantly offering up incense to 
this same god? — But to return to our muttons. 

That evening, Miranda, worn out with anxiety 
and the experiences of the day, retired early ; and 
Willie, having been bribed with an extra piece of 
cake, also went to bed, tlius leaving his fond 
parents to that confidential tete-a-tete to which 
both had been looking forw^ard since morning. 
Emma had taken up a piece of muslin and made 
a pretense of sewing, while Joe, with newspaper 
in hand, was enjoying a fine Havana cigar, which 
he claimed had been presented to him, but which 
in reality he had surreptitiously purchased that 
morning in the store next door. The word '^sur- 
reptitiously” is used advisedly, because, even to 
his wife, Joe pretended that he was too poor to 
afford such luxuries out of his own pocket. 

After a few moments’ silence, during which 
Emma kept stitching away, and Joe was puffing 
out great clouds of smoke, the. former started the 
conversational ball a-rolling with a remark tossed 
straight at the subject she intended to discuss. 


292 


Odd Types 


“Well, Joe,” she began, folding her hands over 
the muslin, “what do you think of that brother 
of yours now, eh ? Was I right, or not ?” 

“That you were, Em,” replied her spouse, put- 
ting the paper down over his knee. “I never 
thought Phil could be so vicious. I must say Pm 
simply dumfounded.” 

“Pm not,” returned Emma. “He merely show s 
himself as Pve claimed him to be all along. His 
siding with Mr. Grab when he hurt Willie was 
enough for me. A man with so little feeling for 
his own relatives that he encourages strangers to 
abuse them is fit for anything that’s bad.” 

“That’s so,” assented Joe, knitting his brows. 

“I didn’t say anything to you at the time,” con- 
tinued Emma, “but the way that poor child’s arm 
was swollen was a caution. It’s actually a mira- 
cle he didn’t get a tumor there. Phil saw it 
plainly enough, too, yet you know how he excused 
Grab.” 

“Oh, that’s Phil always,” growled Joe. “He’s 
so anxious to avoid a fuss, and to play the peace- 
ful gentleman, that he goes against his own flesh 
and blood every time he has a chance. He be- 
lieves that that will show people how just he is.” 

“I should think,” remarked Emma, “he’d have 
more pride than to associate with such a man as 
Grab. I know I would. Pd think a long time 
before Pd go about with a person that was almost 
a murderer.” 

‘What!” exclaimed Joe, sitting up erect, and 
so startled that he almost dropped his cigar. 
“Grab! — a murderer!” 

“Why, yes,” resumed Emma, complacently, as 


Odd Types 


293 

she began stitching again. ‘‘He came very near 
being one/’ 

“That’s news to me/’ exclaimed Joe. 

“News to you !” repeated Emma. “It ought 
not to be. You certainly remember the last time 
he pinched Willie’s arm, don’t you?” 

“Certainly.” 

'Well,” went on Emma, “suppose Willie had 
gotten a tumor, as I said before he easily might 
have, and suppose it had gotten so large that it 
would have had to be lanced, and then the doctor 
had lanced it with a knife that wasn’t clean, as 
often happens, and the child’s blood had become 
poisoned : or suppose the tumor had come back 
again and again until finally the child’s strength 
had become exhausted and Willie had died — 
wouldn’t Grab have been a murderer ?” 

“Oh!” ejaculated Joe, as he sank back relieved 
and began puffing at his cigar anew. 

“Oh,” mimicked Emma, in disgust. “Why, I 
don’t see how you can be so stupid.” 

“But, Em,” protested Joe, throwing his cigar 
into the cuspidor, rising to his feet, and starting 
to pace the floor, “none of these things have hap- 
pened.” 

“I didn’t say they had, did I ?” retorted Emma, 
with considerable asperity. “Really, you are get- 
ting to be just like your brother.” 

“What’s that,” snapped Joe fiercely, as he 
stopped short in his walk. 

“Anyhow,” added Emma, somewhat cowed by 
her husband’s tones, “I don’t see why you always 
want to defend him. I’m sure he has shown him- 
self mean enough to you, heaven knows. Mark 


294 


Odd Types 


my words, even this trouble he’s stirred up with 
Miranda, if you go to the bottom of it, will be 
found nothing except spite work against you.” 

‘‘Against me?” exclaimed Joe, puckering his 
brow, and plainly puzzled. 

“Yes, against you,” reiterated Emma. 

“How so?” 

“Why, it’s easy enough 'to figure out. Suppose, 
on the strength of this letter, he should get a 
divorce ?” 

“Yes?” 

“Do you imagine Miranda would stay in town ? 
Certainly not. And if she went away, would she 
get any more dress goods from you? No. And 
if she did get any, would he have to pay for them ? 
Not at all. So you see, by getting a divorce, he 
takes away a good customer, and saves so much 
on his brother.” 

“Oh, nonsense!” ejaculated Joe. 

“There’s no nonsense about it,” rejoined 
Emma. “It’s just like Phil, and as sure as you’re 
bom, that’s his only object. You know, he al- 
ways did raise a row when you charged him a 
little more than you did a stranger — as if a body 
shouldn’t be willing to pay even double the price 
to help a brother along.” 

“You’re right, Em, you’re right,” exclaimed 
Joe, now thoroughly aroused. “Come to think, 
he hasn’t been in the store now for over two 
weeks. How he expects me to pay the rent and 
feed my family is more than I know. Does he 
suppose I can live on air? But that’s the way 
with relatives always. You never can depend on 
them.” Here Joe stopped a moment to reflect. 


Odd Types 


295 


then resumed. ‘Tn some resects, though, Fm 
really glad he don’t come. His patronizing airs 
are enough sometimes to set me wild. Whenever 
he gives me a few dollars, by George ! he acts as 
if he were doing me a favor. As though it’s not 
his duty to see that I don’t starve. Honestly, 
when he came in the store two days ago, I felt like 
pitching him out.” 

‘Two days ago!” interrupted Emma. ‘T 
thought you said just now he hadn’t been in for 
two weeks?” 

“Oh, well,” answered Joe, irritably, T made a 
mistake. He was in two days ago, but then he 
only stayed a minute.” 

“Of course,” commented Emma. “He never 
does stay long. I’ve noticed that often. He 
hardly gets inside the door when he seems on 
tenter-hooks to get out again. I suppose he’s 
afraid you’ll ask his advice about something.” 

“Advice ! Precious little advice he gives me,” 
returned Joe. “Whenever I talk about the busi- 
ness, he simply shrugs his shoulders, and that’s 
all. As for offering to help me, never a word I” 

“That is a great deal your own fault, Joe,” 
said Emma. 

“Why so?” 

“Because, instead of coming right out, you’re 
always beating around the bush. If I had a 
brother as rich as Phil I wouldn’t be a bit bash- 
ful, but when I needed money I’d just go to him 
and demand it.” 

“Didn’t I?” exclaimed Joe. “Only the other 
day I asked him to loan me five hundred dollars.” 

“Well, what did he say?” 


296 


Odd Types 


'^Say ! He reminded me straight off, the dirty 
dog, of the hundred dollars he had sent me two 
weeks ago, as though that sum could last forever, 
and then began as usual talking about his heavy 
expenses, his taxes and such stuff, as if that in- 
terested me, and finally, of course, he wound up 
by saying I’d have to wait. I suppose he was 
afraid he wouldn’t get it back.” 

''Oh, the heartless wretch!” exclaimed Emma 
indignantly. "I can’t really understand, Joe, how 
there can be such a difference between brothers. 
You, so warm-hearted, and Phil always so cold.” 

"I suppose it’s the money,” exclaimed Joe. 
"I’ve often noticed that men who were the kind- 
est when poor, the moment they became rich 
turned out the most hard-hearted. It actually 
seems as though wealth petrifies their feelings. I 
know one thing, if Phil were in my place and I 
in his, I’d act different.” 

"I know you would,” commented Emma. 

"But,” continued Joe, "of course, you can’t ex- 
pect anything like that from such a selfish hound 
'as Phil is. All he thinks of is himself.” 

"You’re right there,” rejoined Emma. "His 
recent actions go to show that. Only last week, 
he bought another team of horses. Paid a thou- 
sand dollars for them.” 

"Exactly,” commented Joe. "One team isn’t 
enough for him. He must have two. But that’s 
the way he acts all the time now. Stingy to every 
one except himself, and then spending his money 
where it does the least good. If these things were 
necessities I wouldn’t say a word. But they aren’t. 


Odd Types 


297 


They’re nothing except sheer extravagance. 
Must he have horses ? Better men than he never 
had them and yet lived happily. If Phil wanted 
really to do what was right, he’d come to me like 
a man, and say, ‘Here, Joe, here are a thousand 
dollars for a present.’ But no. He don’t think of 
that. He’d rather spend it on horse flesh for his 
own pleasure — he would.” 

“Never mind,” remarked Emma soothingly, 
Jwe’ll repay him for his meanness. I had a lorig 
talk to-day with Miranda, and I’ve gotten her to 
promise to have nothing more to do with him.” 

“I don’t see how that’ll benefit us,” rejoined 
Joe. 

“You don’t?” returned Emma. Then lowering 
her voice, she added: “Did you notice what a 
large roll of bills she had in her purse?” Joe 
stopped and looked at his wife inquiringly. 
“Well,” continued Emma, “that shows that she’s 
well supplied with money, doesn’t it?” Joe made 
no answer, but continued to gaze at Emma stol- 
idly. “Perhaps,” went on Emma, “if we keep 
her away from Phil and treat her kindly, she’ll 
give us a part of it. She assured me that wt 
wouldn’t be sorry for befriending her, and I don’t 
know what else she could mean but that she’d pay 
us handsomely for our trouble. So you see, all 
we need do at present is to pretend that we con- 
sider her terribly outraged, and you’ll see, we’ll 
make more out of her than if she and Phil were 
together.” 

“But suppose they become reconciled ?” queried 
Joe. 


298 


Odd Types 


mustn^t allow it/* answered Emma. 
least — not until Miranda’s money gives out.” 

Having reached which amiable conclusion, this 
worthy couple betook themselves to bed and 
peaceful slumber. 


Odd Types 


299 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE CYNIC IN HIS NEW GUISE. 

As usuAL^ the quarrel between Phil and 
Miranda did not escape the notice of those below 
stairs, and its echo quickly percolated down into 
the regions of Susan, Jane and Tom. 

So when, on the following morning, Susan, 
Jane and Tom were requested to appear before 
their master, they agreed among themselves that 
the summons could mean nothing else except an 
announcement of the rupture between his wife 
and himself, and a notice that their services would 
no longer be required. Accordingly, as they 
marched into the library, one behind the other, in 
Qiinese fashion, their faces wore all the solemnity 
properly befitting so important an occasion. 

As they came filing in, Phil, who was standing 
near the library table, smoking, noticing their 
soberness of mien, smiled grimly. Before ad- 
dressing them, he waited patiently until they had, 
as it were, presented arms. Then, speaking in 
measured tones, so that the meaning of his words 
would be sure to sink into their obtuse minds, he 
quietly informed them that Mrs. Gloom, for rea- 
sons which at this time it was unnecessary to ex- 
plain, had gone away — and that she would prob- 


300 


Odd Types 


ably remain away for a considerable length of 
time. In fact, he added, her absence might ex- 
tend into years. At this announcement, each of 
the trio assumed a look of surprise, so nearly re- 
sembling the genuine that it would have been 
hard to distinguish them apart. Then, before 
Phil could continue, all three raised their voices 
in unison, and gave utterance to expressions of 
such deep regret at Miranda’s absence, and to 
such fulsome praise of her good qualities, that 
even Phil, who knew them to be far from sincere, 
was simply dumfounded at the naturalness of 
their acting. When finally they had concluded, 
Phil, with a strong suspicion of irony in his tones, 
replied that, since they seemed so deeply attached 
to Mrs. Gloom, he felt that he could not do bet- 
ter than continue his domestic affairs in their 
charge. Only now, he said, they must take all 
their orders from him. He assured them that 
they would find him a kind and considerate mas- 
ter — so long, at least, as they gave him strict 
obedience. They must not, he concluded, be sur- 
prised at anything that now occurred, and above 
all things must keep close-mouthed. Then prom- 
ising each an increase of wages he dismissed 
them. 

Of course, like most of those whom fortune has 
placed higher in the social scale, these three deni- 
zens of the lower strata were thorough hypocrites. 
The praises which they had whined out to Phil 
had not come from the heart — if indeed they pos- 
sessed such a thing. As soon, therefore, as they 
had regained their own quarters, their tongues 
set a-wagging most viciously, and the mistress 


Odd Types 


301 

whom they had pretended so to love and revere 
was now with equal eagerness foully reviled. 
Every innocent gesture of hers was brought for- 
ward to be twisted and distorted into an evil ac- 
tion, and every kindly word was misinterpreted 
and misconstrued. The unanimous judgment of 
this council of the nether world was one of con- 
demnation of Miranda and of approbation of 
Phil. Why? Simply because Miranda was de- 
posed and no longer in power ; because they had 
nothing more to expect from her, and because, in 
short, she was no longer the arbiter of punish- 
ment and reward. On the other hand, Phil was 
the new ruler, from whom emoluments were yet 
in prospect, and upon whom, in fact, depended 
their whole future. As in this little circle, so in 
the larger world. We all fawn upon those in 
power, while we have only words of disapproval 
and derision for the fallen idol. Oh, what a 
sweet, delightful, noble world it is ! How grace- 
fully we cringe to those from whom we expect 
benefits, and with what splendid vim we attack 
and maul and beat those whom fate has over- 
thrown ! How just and impartial we are ! Might, 
with us, is always right ; for might is to be feared, 
and feebleness can confer no favors. 

While Susan, Jane and Tom were thus engaged 
in venting their spleen upon their late mistress, 
Phil, with as devil-may-care an air as he could 
assume, sauntered out of the house, with the in- 
tent of paying a visit to Dolly. He had not gone 
far before he espied Grab coming toward him. 
As soon as the latter saw Phil, his recollection of 
Phirs usual imfriendly greeting, combined per- 


202 


Odd Types 


haps with a guilty conscience of bric-a-brac bor- 
rowed and not returned, induced him to seek 
some way of avoiding a meeting; but Phil, evi- 
dently surmising his intent, came directly toward 
hm, and to Grab's intense astonishment shook 
him cordially by the hand. 

‘‘Why, my dear Mr. Grab, how are you?" 
queried Phil, with gushing effusiveness. 

‘‘Very — very well, thank you," stuttered Grab, 
in surprise at Phil's geniality. 

“Still hunting for curios, I suppose?" 

“Yes — yes — never stop in that for a minute." 

“H'm! By the way, there are quite a number 
of very rare stones up at the house," said Phil, 
still continuing to wring his hand. “If you want 
any of them, you are welcome at any time, you 
know. In fact," went on Phil, warmly, “when- 
ever you wish to look over my antiques. Grab, 
just go right in and help yourself. Don't stop to 
ask permission." 

Such an unlooked-for invitation, coming from 
so unexpected a source, so astounded Grab that 
he almost lost his breath and could hardly gasp 
his sense of appreciation. Indeed, his stupefac- 
tion was so great that before he had half recov- 
ered, Phil had already bid him good-bye and gone 
on his way. 

For some little time Grab gazed after Phil's 
vanishing figure in dumb astonishment, then pass- 
ing his thin, attenuated hand over his wrinkled 
brow to collect his thoughts, he turned on his 
heel and started briskly in the direction of Joe 
Gloom's store. Grab could only account for this 
sudden change in Phil's demeanor to mental aber- 


Odd Types 


303 


ration, and he intended to inform Joe at once of 
the terrible calamity which he firmly believed had 
befallen his brother. 

While, then, Grab hurried on at a rapid gait 
towards the business section of the town, Phil, 
with long, steady stride, traversed the broad coun- 
try road that led to the house of his protegee — 
Dolly. Knowing the girl's sensitive nature, Phil 
was fearful lest she might be making herself 
wretched with the belief that she was the cause 
of his estrangement from Miranda, and in her de- 
spair might do herself harm. His anxiety on that 
score was not without reason ; for Dolly had often 
expressed to him her deep appreciation of his 
kindness to her, and had declared that if he ever 
came to harm by it, she could never forgive her- 
self. In fact, that, after that, life would hardly be 
worth the living. 

As Phil mounted the steps and was about to 
pull the bell, the door was swung open by Dolly 
herself, who had evidently been on the lookout. 
She greeted Phil in her usual quiet, demure man- 
ner, and led the way to the sitting room. Phil, 
assuming an air of levity which he was far from 
feeling, complimented her on the cosiness of its 
appearance, and remarked that it had about it an 
air of contentment which emanated, he hoped, 
from its occupant. Dolly replied to this with an 
expression of gratitude to Phil, but added, witli a 
sigh, that she feared his kindness to her had been 
ill requited. 

‘‘H'm," observed Phil, ‘T thought so. You 
have been worrying yourself over what occurred 
yesterday. Now, you must stop that at once. 


304 


Odd Tvpes 


What has happened, has happened, and is prob- 
ably for the best. See, am I not gayer than you 
ever saw me before?” and he forced a laugh 
which had by no means a pleasant sound, while 
Dolly saw tears starting in his eyes. 

‘^Ah, you are reconciled again ?” remarked 
Dolly hopefully. 

“Reconciled!” exclaimed Phil. Then recalling 
that Dolly was still ignorant of what had oc- 
curred after her departure, he told her without 
reserve of his discovery of the letter, of his con- 
fronting Felice and his wife with it, and of their 
admission of its genuineness. “Do you think,” 
exclaimed Phil, “that after such an acknowledg- 
ment of guilt on their part, I would consent to a 
reconciliation? Never!” and the same stern look 
as of old came over his face. 

“Oh,” remarked Dolly gently, “I fear you have 
condemned your wife unjustly.” 

“Unjustly,” echoed Phil, — “with that letter?” 

“Even with that letter. Ah, you do not know 
Mr. Felice, as I know him. I could almost swear 
that your wife is innocent. She may have been 
indiscreet, but surely, if you really love her, you 
can overlook and pardon an indiscretion.” 

“What! Why — what’s this you’re saying?” 
exclaimed Phil, rather angrily. “Surely, you will 
not plead the cause of one who has spurned you 
so unkindly ?” 

“What she did to me,” answered Dolly, in hum- 
ble tones, “matters little. I have suffered from 
injustice so much that I have become hardened 
to it. Yet when I see another in the same posi- 
tion my heart goes out to her.” 


Odd Types 


305 


‘TIa! ha! ha!’' laughed Phil, reassuming the 
character which he intended henceforth to bear, 
'‘this is really an edifying spectacle ! How I wish 
the noble, fine and virtuous ladies and gentlemen 
who hold their heads so high in the world and 
trample such as you under their feet — how I wish 
they could see, and hear you, now. Ha 1 ha ! It 
would give them quite a shock. What! A 
woman like you, have compassion! Impossible! 
It’s a trick, a delusion, a snare. Are not all the 
noble impulses centred in themselves ! No, no, 
Dolly, you must put such feelings from you. 
Compassion is weakness. Have none of it — 
neither that, nor feeling, nor sympathy.^ Believe 
me, it is the only way in this world to avoid suffer- 
ing. Henceforth I, too, intend to be as hard, as 
selfish and as calculating as the rest of my dear 
friends, and I want you to follow my example. 
Let us revenge ourselves, Dolly, on the world, you 
and I, not with tragic weapons, but with laugh- 
ter. Defy all its laws and grin in its face. Surely 
we both have ample cause to justify it.” 

"Oh,” exclaimed Dolly, frightened at Phil’s 
vehemence, "you surely do not mean what you 
say.” 

"Every word of it — every word of it,” reiter- 
ated Phil, rising and beginning to pace the room, 
as was his wont when unusually aroused. "Look 
at me, girl. Look at me. I have always led an 
upright, honest life. I have never knowingly 
wronged any one. Whenever I have seen dis- 
tress I have tried, as far as I could, to relieve it. 
Whenever I have seen a wrong committed, I have 
tried to have it righted. Suffering and injustice 


3o6 


Odd Types 


have always wrung my heart, and I have used my 
best efforts to assist the fallen and the lowly. But 
has the world cared anything for all this? Not 
at all. No. The world found fault with me, be- 
cause I would not cringe and play the hypocrite ; 
because I was not lavish in hollow compliments 
and empty sympathy. It felt offended because I 
did not trust it — because I read its character too 
well. If I trusted few, it was because I knew 
rom experience that there were few to be 
trusted. Yet it seems that even then I had not 
gone far enough ; for now the only one in whom 
I put my faith has proven false. So away, say 
I, with all sympathy — away with all compassion ! 
Hereafter I will be a man of the world — without 
heart and without thought. I shall laugh and 
smirk and smile, like the rest of them. Oh, you'll 
see how popular — ha! ha! — how popular Til be. 
Self! self! self! — that is the only thought which 
should sway us — that is the only Open Sesame to 
earthly pleasure. When the world strikes at you, 
hit back — hit with all your might, not openly, but 
covertly; and if occasion ofifers, not only defend 
yourself, but revenge yourself. Always, however, 
even when you bury your knife in your neigh- 
bor's back, when you kill his body, when you 
murder his soul — be certain to do it pleasantly, 
with a smile on your face and with laughter on 
your lips. That is the way of the world, Dollv, 
and I have resolved to adopt it as my own." 

As Phil spoke thus, his passionate anger show- 
ing itself in his clenched teeth, Dolly, only half 
comprehending what he meant, intuitively under- 
stood how terrible must have been the suffering 


Odd Types 


307 


that had given rise to such sentiments; and her 
heart went out to him in deep sympathy. She 
felt, too, that in spite of his denial, Phil still loved 
his wife as much as ever. Oh, how she yearned 
to ease his suffering, to soften his bitterness ; but 
despite the best of will her poor little brain could 
formulate no definite course of action. 

And so it came to pass that this cynic, who had 
thought to make himself proof against all the 
malicious shafts of his fellows, by enveloping 
himself in an armor of scorn and misanthropy, 
and who believed himself able to cope single- 
handed against them all — at the very first wound, 
proved miserably feeble, and throwing away his 
arms, fled from the field ignominiously. 

Such, unfortunately, is only too often the case. 
Misfortune, alas ! makes weaklings of us all. 


3o8 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER XIX. 

REPENTANCE. 

A FORTNIGHT had passed since Miranda and 
Phil had parted, and during that time neither 
saw nor heard from the other. Though the rumor 
of their estrangement had gotten noised about, 
such acquaintances as met them, by a seemingly 
tacit understanding, avoided the topic altogether 
— not, be it understood, out of any consideration 
for the persons concerned, but solely from the 
fear that by interference they might in some way 
harm themselves. 

There is an old saying that absence makes the 
heart grow fonder, and this instance proved no 
exception to the rule. As time went by, Miranda 
began to feel the separation from Phil more and 
more keenly; and with reflection there came in 
her heart a great revulsion. As she searched her 
memory and recalled all the kindnesses she had 
received at his hands and the true nobility of his 
character, she reproached herself for her ingrati- 
tude and unjust suspicions. The more she re- 
viewed the past, the more she felt convinced that 
Phil had been guilty of no wrong. It was impos- 
sible, said she to herself, for a man such as Phil 
had shown himself to be, to commit a base action. 


Odd Types 


309 


From the time of their marriage, in fact, every 
day had revealed in him some new trait of un- 
selfishness, of considerateness, of kindly thought 
and magnanimity. Long ago, she had discovered 
that under the crust of a hard, bitter cynicism ex- 
isted a sensitive, humane, loving heart. And now 
— now, it was lost to her! Not through any 
wrongful act of her own, but by a strange, re- 
lentless combination of circumstances. 

Many and many a time during the last two 
weeks had Miranda deeply regretted the day that 
had brought Charles Felice into her life; for now, 
in the calmness of solitude, she clearly saw the 
man in his true character. She perceived at 
length how vile he was, and felt chagrined at her 
own simplicity in not discovering it sooner. The 
more she contrasted Felice and Phil, the greater 
grew her regard for the latter, and the stronger 
came the tugging at her heart to rejoin him. 

Other circumstances and conditions, too, of 
which perhaps she was not aware, contributed to 
increase her desire for a reconciliation. From 
childhood to the time of her marriage, she had 
passed her days under the tutelage of kindly peo- 
ple, who had relieved her from the sordid cares of 
food and dress, and to whom she had become 
accustomed to entrust the regulation of her duties. 
After her marriage, Phil, perhaps unwisely, had 
continued this system of irresponsibility, and had 
kept from her all knowledge of those anxieties 
that attach to a life of economy. She had never 
known what it was to be without the necessities 
of life, or to be in want of means to obtain sus- 
tenance or shelter. She had never experienced 


310 


Odd Types 


the disappointment of a wish unfulfilled. The 
word ‘‘debt” was a term almost unknown to her, 
and thus far she had happily escaped the terrible 
experiences that usually follow in its train. In a 
word, she had a very inadequate idea of the value 
of money. 

When, therefore, she first came to her brother- 
in-law’s house, she was generous to a fault, and 
proceeded to spend her little store with a lavish 
hand. But after a few days, chancing to look into 
her purse and noticing its contents, she was hor- 
rified to find it nearly depleted. Naturally this 
discovery rendered her more uneasy than ever, 
and though she felt that she ought to consider the 
future and determine upon some means of meet- 
ing the new conditions, she was so unused to such 
things that she had not the courage to attempt it. 
As day followed day, therefore, the horrible pros- 
pect of penury weighed more and more heavily 
upon her. Oh! how she yearned for some one in 
whose disinterestedness she could trust — to whom 
she could go for counsel. But, alas ! there was no 
one. As for disclosing her condition to Emma, 
she was wise enough to know that such a course 
would practically make her homeless. She had 
suspected before that Emma and her husband 
were avaricious, but since her arrival at their 
home that suspicion had become intensified into 
a certainty. Her recent intimate intercourse with 
them had also shown her that their interest in her 
was feigned and not sincere. Not only that, but 
she felt assured that if she gave them the slight- 
est inkling of the meagreness of her finances they 
would not hesitate to bid her the door. To pre- 


Odd Types 


311 


vent such a catastrophe, or at least to put it off as 
far as possible, Miranda started in to economize. 
Instead of giving Willie quarters, she now de- 
generated into offering him dimes ; instead of con- 
tributing delicaces to the table daily, she now con- 
lined herself to offering them only on rare occa- 
sions. 

This tightening of the purse strings did not 
pass unnoticed by the sharp eyes of Emma, and 
she and Joe became considerably alarmed over it. 
They rightly conjectured that Miranda’s funds 
were running low — that the bird they were pluck- 
ing was almost reduced to its last feather. And 
with this suspicion came a change in their con- 
duct. Their affability toward their guest, which 
hitherto had been extreme, began now rapidly to 
lessen, and to be interspersed at intervals with fits 
of irritation. This alteration in their attitude, as 
can well be imagined, rendered Miranda still 
more unhappy and brought home to her with 
greater force her unprotected and dependent state. 
It also served to make her more reticent, and more 
than ever threw her back upon herself. So, by 
degrees, Miranda joined the family circle less and 
less, and finally, perceiving their increasing bru- 
tality, ceased to frequent it altogether, preferring 
to spend the greater part of the time alone in her 
own room. 

One day, however, having foolishly ventured 
to attend one of their meals, and having suffered 
more than usual from their unkind insinuations, 
she became desperate, and impulsively taking pen 
in hand, wrote Phil a humble request that he visit 
her. Poor woman! She did not know that in 


Odd Types 


31^ 

this she was simply forestalling her hosts by a 
few weeks. They had already calculated her re- 
sources to a penny, and had found that in half a 
month more she would be at the end of them — and 
then, they had agreed between themselves, to shift 
their support from her to Phil. They were anx- 
ious, however, that this change of allegiance 
should not take place until they had gotten out of 
Miranda every cent that she possessed. By taking 
time, therefore, thus by the forelock, Miranda 
was not only upsetting her loving relatives' care- 
fully conceived plans, but incidentally was piling 
up more trouble for herself. 

After despatching her message, in order if pos- 
sible to free herself from the terrible depression 
which was weighing her down, Miranda set out 
for a long walk, from which she did not return 
until some time after the supper hour. At that 
meal, as her tingling ears plainly told her, she had 
formed the chief topic of discussion between 
Emma and her husband. 

‘‘What's gotten into Miranda lately ?" remarked 
Joe, as he wiped the soup from his moustache. 
“She hardly ever shows herself nowadays." 

“Oh," answered his better half, with a toss of 
the head, “the lady seems to be getting very high 
notions lately. Appears to think we are not good 
enough for her. Well, if she imagines that I'm 
going to keep meals waiting for her, as I once 
did, she'll find herself mistaken. She'll not turn 
us out of house and home, I can tell you that." 

“Out of house and home !" exclaimed Joe in 
surprise. 

‘wV'hy, yes, that’s what it would come to," re- 


OtJD Tytes 


313 


Slimed Emma, I didn’t put my foot down. If 
I’d let this go on, the first thing you’d know, she’d 
want extra dishes, and from extra dishes, she’d 
ask for extra plates, and from extra plates would 
be only a short step to extra attendance, and be- 
fore we’d know it, our expenses would have 
grown so great and we’d be so deep in debt that 
the roof would be taken away over our heads.” 

“Oh, I see,” remarked Joe, blinking under the 
weight of his wife’s explanation. 

“It’s plain enough,” continued Emma. “I 
know Miranda like a book. Give her a finger, 

and she’ll want a whole hand. I can just 

Don’t do that, dear,” cried this doting mother, 
interrupting herself, as Willie poured some soup 
on the butter. “That isn’t good manners.” 

“Willie,” remonstrated his father gutturally, 
“behave yourself.” 

At these parental admonitions, Willie only 
snickered, and coolly repeated the operation. In- 
stead of punishing the boy as he justly deserved, 
his mother, like many another before and since, 
began to apologize for him. 

“Poor child,” she exclaimed. “I don’t wonder 
at his disobedience. Considering how he has been 
persecuted, it surprises me he has any goodness 
left in him. Really, Joe, you ought to have that 
Mr. Grab punished for what he has done to 
Willie.” 

“I shall,” answered Joe. “The very next time 
I go to New York, I’ll go and see Brief.” 

“Brief !” exclaimed Emma. “I don’t trust him 
very much. Why don’t you take some one else ?” 


Odd Types 


314 

'Tor a very good reason/’ answered Joe. 
‘‘Some one else Fd have to pay.” 

“Well, Brief don’t do it for nothing, does he?” 

“Not exactly. I have him charge it to Phil,” 
replied Joe, chuckling. 

“Oh, I see,” commented Emma, unconsciously 
using her husband’s favorite phrase. 

At this juncture Willie, having tired of ming- 
ling soup and butter, turned his attention to let- 
ting his fork drop from a heighth and stick into 
the table. 

“Why, Willie,” exclaimed Emma, “you’re ruin- 
ing the table cloth. Stop that at once.” 

“A — a — aw,” ejaculated Willie, contemptu- 
ously, and dropped the fork again. 

“Willie,” cried his mother, “if you don’t be- 
have now ” she was about to add, she would 

send him to bed, but the door opening cut the 
threat short and disclosed Miranda on the 
threshold. 

Looking around, and observing Emma’s com- 
pressed lips, and hearing Joe’s grunt, Miranda 
correctly conjectured that in some way she had 
given offense, and so to appease them, she ad- 
vanced toward Willie with the intention of fond- 
ling him. 

Willie, anticipating her purpose, warned her to 
keep away. “I ain’t no baby any more,” cried the 
young hopeful, “and I hate to have people put 
their hands all over my face.” 

“But you’ll surely give auntie a kiss, won’t 
you?” asked Miranda, gently, as she bent down 
towards him. 

“No, I won’t,” cried Willie, pushing her away. 


Odd Types 315 

'‘But Willie/’ urged Miranda reproachfully, 
coming back again. 

‘‘Keep away, now,” cried Willie, becoming ex- 
asperated, “or ril give you a paste in the snout.” 

“Ha ! ha !” burst out Joe, as Miranda in silent 
disgust retired to a seat near the door. “How that 
boy does pick up expressions ! ‘Paste in the 
snout.’ Who taught you that, Willie ?” 

“Nobody — just learnt it by myself,” returned 
the lad, with boyish boastfulness. 

“What a memory he’s got, hstsn’t he?” re- 
marked Joe, addressing Miranda. 

“Wonderful,” answered Miranda, in a half- 
dreamy way, her whole manner showing deep de- 
pression. 

“Memory !” chimed in Emma. “I should 
rather call it originality, for certainly Willie 
sometimes uses expressions that I’ve never heard 
in my life before. Only the other day — let me 
see — yes, I had said something that made him 
angry, and what do you think the naughty boy 
told me ?” 

“What?” asked Joe, smiling in anticipation. 

“What?” queried Miranda, still in a half-con- 
scious manner, and exhaling a sigh. 

“Why, he told me to ‘close my trap,’ ” replied 
Emma, with a screechy snicker. “Such an ex- 
pression, ‘to close my trap.’ ” 

“Ha! ha!” laughed Joe heavily. 

“Wonderful,” murmured Miranda faintly, her 
eyes staring before her, as though her thoughts 
were far away. 

“That ain’t nawthin,’ ” exclaimed Willie, proud 
of the admiration he was evoking, and strutting 


Odd Types 


316 

toward the door like a bantam cock. ‘T know lots 
more, but I can’t remember ’em just now,” and 
passing from view, he was heard a moment later 
clattering down the stairs like a falling load of 
bricks. 

At the sound, Emma shook her head from side 
to side, her lips encircled by one of those in- 
dulgent smiles that are usually seen on mothers’ 
faces when their offspring do something which 
no one except themselves find commendable. 
Joe, having lit a cigar and taken up the news- 
paper, was soon deep in its contents, while 
Miranda continued to stare straight before her. 
For some minutes no one spoke. Then Emma, 
chancing to look toward Miranda, and observing 
her abstraction, suddenly exclaimed: ‘T declare, 
Miranda, if you’re not thinking again.” 

Miranda, somewhat startled, looked up. 

‘‘And I shouldn’t wonder,” went on Emma, 
“but it’s on the old subject, too.” Miranda 
bowed her head guiltily. “It’s really too bad you 
can’t stop it. Any one can see that the habit is 
telling on you. If you keep it up, mark my 
vrords, you’ll surely break down,” concluded 
Emma, unconsciously perpetrating a punning 
antithesis. 

“The sooner, the better,” replied Miranda, de- 
spondently. 

“Why, Miranda, what a wicked wish !” ex- 
claimed Emma. “I have seen foolish people be- 
fore, but you certainly take the prize. The idea — 
to be worrying yourself to death over a person 
who has treated you so meanly. I’d just like to 
see myself losing sleep over such a man f” 


Odd Types 317 

''But if you had wronged sighed 

Miranda, plaintively. 

"Wronged himl"' cried Emma. "It’s he who 
has wronged you. Besides, why waste thoughts 
on a man you care nothing for ?” 

"Oh — but I do!” exclaimed Miranda, looking 
at her sister-in-law in surprise. "Surely, Emma, 
you do not think I would have married Phil, if I 
had not loved him !” 

"Why not?” replied Emma, sharply. "People 
do that every day.” 

"Heaven forgive them, then,” returned Miran- 
da, fervently. "I may be wicked, but surely you 
ought to know me better than to think me de- 
praved enough so to desecrate the sacredness of 
marriage.” 

"Indeed!” answered Emma, in rather satirical 
tones, "it seems, then, I’ve made a mistake. I 
always thought it was the other way — at least, 
until recently. I always thought that Phil loved 


"He did,” interjected Miranda. 

"He has certainly shown it by his actions,” re- 
torted Emma, sarcastically. 

"You misjudge him, Emma,” answered Miran- 
da, sadly. "He loves me still. I am sure of it, 
but he has been blinded and misled by that un- 
fortunate letter. If only I can see him and ex- 
plain, I am certain he will receive me back again.’' 
Then, after a pause, she added : "At least, I have 
determined to try.” 

"To try !” reiterated Emma, her fear of a recon- 
ciliation between husband and wife before the 
time set by Joe and herself being aroused to a 


Odd Types 


3^8 

high pitch. 'Why, Miranda, what are you 
thinking of? Have you lost your senses? Don’t 
you know that, by such a move, you would ac- 
knowledge your own guilt? Let me give you a 
bit of warning. If you don’t want any regrets, 
you’ll let Phil make the first advance.” 

"But,” contended Miranda faintly, disquieted 
at Emma’s prospective disapproval of her action, 
"I am the one who has sinned, and therefore 
ought to be the first to offer reparation.” 

Here, Joe, having finished reading, laid down 
his paper and continued to smoke in silence, his 
eyes closed and his ears wide open. 

"Well, I don’t think so,” returned Emma. "I 
know if I were in your place, I wouldn’t do any- 
thing of the kind. Even if I were altogether in 
the wrong, I’d certainly not lower my pride that 
way. Besides, such a step will have just the 
opposite effect of what you expect. I know Phil 
better than you, and I feel certain he’d only 
laugh at you for your pains.” 

"Oh, no, no,” exclaimed Miranda, frightened 
at her sister-in-law’s prediction, "you misjudge 
Phil completely. He is too noble to act so 
cruelly.” Then, as Emma shook her head to in- 
dicate her negation, Miranda added with a sigh : 
"Well, we’ll see when he comes.” 

"When he comes !” exclaimed Emma sharply, 
making a convulsive movement as though she’d 
been shot. 

"When he comes !” cried Joe, starting up as if 
roused from a dream. 

"Who?” asked both in one breath. 


Odd Types 3^9 

'Thil/" answered Miranda. Then a3ded hur- 
riedly: ‘T have sent for him.’’ 

‘‘You have sent for him !” reiterated Joe and 
Emma, in the same tone of consternation as be- 
fore 

“Yes,” replied Miranda, her voice rendered al- 
most inaudible by the fear which the counte- 
nances of her brother-in-law and his wife inspired 
in her. 

For a moment neither of them spoke, as 
though they wished to grasp the portents of the 
announcement fully ; then Emma, bursting out of 
her restraint of astonishment, screeched : 

“He shan’t put a foot in this house — not a foot ! 
That I’m determined on. The idea! What do 
you take this house for, anyhow — a hotel !’’ 

“Exactly,” roared Joe, as usual following his 
wife’s lead. “What do you take this house for, 
eh — a hotel ?” 

“I never heard of such a thing 1” continued 
Emma, her voice at its highest pitch 

“No, I certainly never heard of such a thing,” 
Joe’s guttural tones repeated. 

“The impudence — to invite a person here 
without our knowledge,” went on Emma. 

“Yes — the impudence — to invite him without 
our knowledge,” reiterated Joe, gradually work- 
ing himself up to fever heat. 

‘T shan’t let him in,” cried Emma. 

“I’ll throw him out,” echoed Joe. “Yes— throw 
him out bodily. As long as I am here, Phil shan’t 

put a foot inside this ” He was about to add 

“door,” when, upon a signal from Emma, he 
stopped. 


320 


Odd Types 


Tlie reason of that signal was apparent to Joe 
as soon as he glanced in Miranda's direction. 
Throughout this fierce fusilade, the poor woman 
had sat speechless and dismayed, until suddenly a 
bright idea struck her. At once acting upon it, 
she drew out her purse and opened it. The sight 
of the little talisman had an immediate and 
wondrous effect upon her solicitous relatives. 
Their anger became instantly mollified, and as 
Miranda proceeded to draw out of it her little 
store, Emma, perceiving her intent, again ad- 
dressed her, this time in quite affectionate tones. 

‘'You may think, Miranda," she began, almost 
apologetically, “that we are harsh and unkind, 
but we don't mean to be. We are frank and hon- 
est, and say bluntly just what we think." 

“Yes," said Joe, his red face aglow with the 
fervor of his honorable motives, “we are frank, 
often to our own hurt." 

“If we've said anything that seemed unreason- 
able, I, and I am sure Joe also, feel sorry." To 
this, Joe nodded his approval. “Whatever we 
have said, however, was only intended for your 
own good. To us, it seems inadvisable to ap- 
proach Phil just yet (here Miranda dejectedly 
counted several bills), but, of course, if you insist, 
we won't oppose you." 

“No," said Joe, as Miranda now looked up and 
lifted her hand as though to offer him the money, 
“if you insist, that's your business, and we won't 
interfere." 

“And you^l allow me to receive him here?" 
queried Miranda, anxiously, as she now extended 
toward him the hand holding the money. Joe 


Odd Types 


321 


made a movement waving it away. ''Oh, take it, 
Joe,” implored Miranda. ‘'It's for allowing me to 
use this room this evening.” 

“No — no,” exclaimed Joe, as though feeling 
severe compunctions at accepting the lucre, while 
at the same time he allowed Miranda to press it 
into his hand, “it isn't right. Here,” and he made 
a motion as though to return it. 

“I beg of you, Emma,” pleaded Miranda, al- 
most supplicatingly, “make Joe accept.” 

“Don't, Joe. You only worry Miranda,” said 
Emma, suddenly developing a deep solicitude for 
her sister-in-law's state of mind. “I know that if 
she did not give it willingly, she wouldn't offer it 
at all, would you, dear?” Oh, Money I what a 
saccharine influence is thine ! 

“Oh, no!” replied Miranda, with hypocritical 
assurance. 

“Well,” remarked Joe, slipping the bills into 
his pocket, “if you won't take them back, why— 
you won't.” 

At this moment a step was heard on the stairs. 

“That's him !” exclaimed Emma, as she and 
Miranda started to their feet together. “Come, 
Joe, let us go upstairs,” and followed by her hus- 
band, she hurried from the room, leaving Miranda 
standing, pale and trembling, to receive Phil 
alone. 


322 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE INTERVIEW. 

Now ^^upstairs’’ in Emma’s lexicon had by no 
means the meaning attributed to it ordinarily ; for 
as soon as she and her husband had reached the 
next room and closed the door, she caught him by 
the arm and brought him to a standstill. Then, 
drawing him beneath the transom, which was 
open, the two silently awaited developments. 

A moment afterward the door opposite to the 
one which was screening them opened, and Phil, 
with an assumed jaunty air that ill became his 
sedate, finely-chiseled face, entered. For an in- 
stant he glanced around to see who was there, 
and discovering no one except Miranda, turned 
toward her, and in a cold but rather bantering 
tone, said ; 

‘‘You sent for me, madam, and since I have 
lately made it a rule never to disobey a lady’s com- 
mand, I have come.” 

“Yes, Phil,” answered Miranda, in a faint 
voice. Then, timidly raising her eyes till they met 
his, she impulsively stretched out her hands in a 
gesture of entreaty. For a moment Phil, touched 
by this silent supplication, was almost conquered, 
but quickly recalling his newly-formed resolve to 


Odd Types 


323 


be pitiless, he repressed his feelings and made no 
response. Perceiving this, Miranda sorrowfully 
lowered her arms, and in tremulous tones said: 
'T wish to speak to you, Phil. Will you listen?” 

''Proceed, madam,” answered Phil, cold and 
motionless as a statue. 

"Oh, Phil,” pleaded Miranda, the tears in spite 
of her coming to her eyes, "don't call me 'madam.' 
Call me Miranda, as of old. Surely, whatever you 
may think of me, you will not treat me like a 
stranger.” 

"I am very sorry, madam,” returned Phil, with 
a glacial smile on his lips, "that the situation so 
distresses you. It was, however, if you will re- 
call, of your own making. If, therefore, not in- 
convenient — you see, madam,” he added, with a 
low bow, "I have become very considerate of 
late — if not inconvenient, will you be kind enough 
to come directly to the subject you wish to dis- 
cuss, and thus end what appears to be a painful 
interview ?” 

Phil's manner and words were so different 
from what Miranda had expected, that for a long 
time she gazed at him mutely. She could hardly 
assure herself that her eyes were not deceived, 
and that it was really he— the affectionate hus- 
band of yore — who was addressing her. 

"It is needless,” at length, she answered sadly, 
"to ask. You can easily imagine.” 

"Imagine!” returned Phil, still bearing his 
jaunty air. "No, thank you, I am through with 
imagination. I have found it a trait, not only 
irksome but depressing. In this practical world, 
to imagine is to suffer ; to imagine is to put your- 


324 


♦ 


Odd Types 

self in your neighbor’s place; to imagine is to 
soften the heart, and rouse the dormant sympa- 
thies ; to imagine is to impel one to attempt the 
alleviation of another’s suffering; to imagine, in 
fine, is to become unselfish ; and unselfishness, as 
perhaps you know, destroys happiness. I, for one, 
am done with it forever.” 

Again Miranda looked at Phil intently. The 
coldness of his words and demeanor sent a chill 
through her, and for some time she was at a loss 
how to proceed. As Phil, however, did not ap- 
pear inclined to lend assistance, she in despera- 
tion made another attempt. 

*‘Ah, Phil,” said she, with a ring of reproach in 
her voice, ‘T never thought you could be so cruel. 
But since you wish to make my task so heavy, I 
shall try to bear it, as I have borne many other 
burdens, uncomplainingly.” P»il shrugged his 
shoulders. 'T have not seent for you,” she 
hastened to add, ‘‘to annoy you with complaints, 
but simply to prove how grossly you have mis- 
judged me. When I am through, you will, I 
think, see how unfounded your suspicions have 
been.” Instead of replying, Phil merely smiled, 
and drew the air through his nostrils audibly, as 
much as to say that he doubted it. ‘‘Surely,” said 
Miranda, now considerably alarmed at this mani- 
festation, and restraining with difficulty her pent- 
up emotions, “surely, you will not condemn me 
without a hearing?” 

“I am ready to listen,” answered Phil, “as my 
presence here shows ; but I warn you in advance 
that it will only be waste of time. No explana- 
tion in the world can explain away that letter, or 


Odd Types 


325 


your deception in concealing from me its receipt.’" 

‘T see/’ said Miranda dejectedly, putting her 
hand to her heart to control its violent beatings. 
'‘You have resolved beforehand not to be recon- 
ciled. You love me no longer.” 

"Love you ? Why not J” returned Phil. 

"Then you do?” said Miranda, catching with 
eagerness at a straw of hope. 

"Love you!” answered Phil banteringly. "Oh 
yes — as I love all your sex. Delightful creatures 
they are, with whom to while away an hour or 
two.” 

"Phil,” cried Miranda, shocked to hear such 
sentiments from those lips, "are you mad!” 

"Mad !” answered Phil, with a sneering smile. 
"No. Merely worldly.” 

"Worldly! Say rather heartless. Oh, Phil, 
you are indeed changed ! Many have told me so, 
but I did not believe them.” 

"I regret, madam,” returned Phil, in cold, po- 
lite tones, "that your handiwork displeases you.” 

"My handiwork,” reiterated Miranda, puzzled. 
Then, after a moment’s reflection, comprehending 
his meaning, she added humbly: "Yes, I under- 
stand. Very well. Attribute it all to me, if you 
will. I will not defend myself. I will even admit 
that I’ve been at fault. But, surely, Phil, merely 
for a single indiscretion committed, as you know, 
without any thought of evil ” 

"The letter intimates differently ” inter- 

rupted Phil, in biting accents. 

"The letter! But that letter is not true. It 
intimates far more than ever was warranted by 
any thought or act of mine. If I swear to you 


326 


Odd Types 


that never — never — did I do or say anything to 
justify the hints contained in it — surely, you’ll be- 
lieve me!” And again she extended her hands 
toward him in eager beseechment. But again, 
Phil pretended not to observe it. He simply an- 
swered, his voice still retaining the same frigid 
tone as before : 

^'How can you expect me to believe you, after 
the manner in which you have acted? One who 
deceives once can never be trusted again. No, no, 
it is too late to ask for pardon.” 

^'Too late,” exclaimed Miranda, who, seeing all 
prospects of reconciliation fading away, now in 
desperation took another tack. 'Ts it possible, 
can it be, that you, whom I thought so unlike, so 
far above other men, are equally as false to your 
promises as they?” 

‘‘Anything is possible now,” returned Phil, 
coldly ; “and that it is so, your own conduct alone 
is to blame.” - 

“My conduct ! Ah, no, Phil. If you had really 
loved me as deeply as you claimed, no act of mine 
could ever have destroyed it. But, even so — if 
you really have no more aifection for me, if the 
love you so often avowed is gone, at least, for the 
sake of the past, show some compassion, and let 
me return to you — a wife in name, if not in real- 
ity.” 

“You wish to return to me?” observed Phil, 
speaking slowly. Then, after a moment’s pause, 
throwing a searching glance at her, he asked sud- 
denly: “Why?” 

“Because, Phil — oh, how unkind of you thus to 
press me — ^because, Phil, whether you believe it or 


Odd Types 


327 


not, I cannot live without you.” Phil smiled in- 
credulously. “You may scoff at me, but I speak 
the truth, Phil. You think that since your love 
has vanished, mine must also have gone.” 

“The little you had — certainly!” interjected 
Phil. 

“No, Phil, no. My heart has always been 
yours, and now more than ever. Oh, Phil,” cried 
Miranda, clasping her hands, as she saw him 
turning from her, “if you have no love for me, 
have some regard at least for rhy good name, and 
save it from the jeers and scorn of the world.” _ 

“Ah 1” exclaimed Phil, straightening up in- 
stantly, “at last, we have the real reason. You 
fear the scorn of the world, that is it.” Then he 
added coldly : “You should have thought of that 
before.” 

“You refuse 1” cried Miranda, rising to her full 
heighth, her pride stung by his indifference. Phil, 
in reply, merely bowed his head. “Beware,” she 
went on wildly, “you may drive me to desperation. 
Besmirch my name, and yours shall also be 
dragged into the mire with it. Then we will see 
on whose side the world will be.” 

“As to that,” returned Phil calmly, “I am ready 
for the test at any time. For when it comes to 
taking sides, the world will surely be on mine. It 
will argue that your behavior must have been 
gross, indeed, to have forfeited the affection of a 
husband such as I have been. I will receive its 
applause — you, its execrations ; for I — I have 
money — the deity that sways men’s judgment the 
whole world over. Madam,” he added, with a 


328 


Odd Types 


mocking bow, ‘^allow me to bid you adieu/’ and 
turning on his heel, he advanced toward the door. 

When Miranda beheld him thus in the act of 
leaving, all her assurance forsook her, and she 
sank to her knees. 

‘‘Oh, Phil,’’ she cried, “don’t leave me — don’t 
desert me. Think of all we have been to each 
other — think !” 

“I have thought,” returned Phil, turning half 
around, his hand on the doorknob, “and have 
found that thought leads to despair. Since that 
discovery, I have resolved to think no more,” and 
without looking back — in fact, not daring to look 
back, for he mistrusted his powers of resistance — 
he left the room. 

Miranda remained in the attitude into which 
she had fallen for a long time, her eyes staring 
into space, her misery too deep for tears. 

Poor woman ! She had played all her cards — 
and lost ! 


Odd Types 


329 


CHAPTER XXL 

VARIANT MOODS, 

While the dark clouds of dissension were thus 
lowering over the house of Phil Gloom, Daniel 
Demos was pursuing, with equal vigor, two ob- 
jects, one social, and the other political. The po- 
litical object was his re-election to Congress, in 
which he was opposed by a man, by far his su- 
perior in birth, intelligence and education. When 
his opponent was nominated, the better class in 
the community rejoiced, and iDelieved that the de- 
feat of Demos was assured. But, unfortunately, 
they reckoned without their host, or at least, with- 
out the ordinary host. They forgot that in these 
times it is not man, but money, that rules. No 
matter what his qualifications, no matter how 
gifted he may be, no man can expect to win who 
does not gain the suffrage of the honest laborer, 
especially such as frequents the saloon, and taxes 
his brains how he can get the most out of life by 
working the least. In addition, it is necessary, 
above all, to obtain the good will of those noble 
citizens who talk no English, and know as little 
of the government and institutions of the country 
as a babe unborn. There are also other elements 
to be reckoned with, such as political bosses, ward 


Odd Types 


33<i 

heelers so called, and so on. But why continue? 
This is no political treatise ; and the reader, if he 
be an American, knows the conditions too well to 
require enumeration. 

Suffice it to say, then, that while his opponent 
poured out his eloquence in lofty periods, and dis- 
cussed the questions of the day with consummate 
skill. Demos said nothing, and devoted his ener- 
gies to gaining the support of the voters by the 
time-honored methods of bribery and promises. 
Demos may not have been a statesman according 
to the standard set up by history, but he certainly 
was an able politician. To become an able poli- 
tician in this wonderful age, one need only follow 
two rules. One is ; Be dubious ; that is, take no 
definite stand on any question before the public — 
or, if pressed too hard, express yourself so am- 
biguously that no one understands you. The 
other is : Be silent. By silence, you will acquire a 
reputation for astuteness that is simply astound- 
ing. Demos followed these precepts to the letter, 
and when he found himself in so tight a corner 
that even their aid could not extricate him, he re- 
sorted to that diplomatic expression, at present 
so much in vogue among our great men, about 
“not crossing a bridge until he came to it.” The 
result of the contest, therefore, was just what, 
under such conditions, might have been expected. 
Demos was elected by an overwhelming majority. 

Having attained his political object. Demos 
now turned to the social one. Even while en- 
grossed in his electoral battle, he had not neg- 
lected it. Attracted by the charms of Mrs. Shoddy 
(or was it her money?). Demos pursued the fair 


Odd Types 


331 


widow with ever-increasing ardor, and whenever 
possible, favored her with the sight of his dazzling 
personality, and with lengthy excerpts from his 
contemplated speeches. In order to do this he 
called at her home frequently — as frequently, that 
is, as circumstances permitted — and as often as 
Mrs. Shoddy came to New York, always managed 
to meet her at the railroad depot. At first, his 
accurate foreknowledge of the time and place of 
their arrival in the city puzzled Minerva greatly, 
but chance one day disclosed to her the reason. 
For, on happening to come out of the post-office, 
where she had just dropped a letter to Brief, 
Minerva discovered her mother hurriedly hurry- 
ing in by another door. To a girl, gifted with 
Minerva’s quick brain, to imagine the rest was 
easy. 

Like all true love, of course, this of the elderly 
lovers did not run smooth. Minerva was very 
frank and outspoken in her dislike toward the 
man, and whenever they met, treated him with 
scant courtesy. Brief, also, did his little utmost 
to prevent the match. 

Demos, though he was fully aware of this 
opposition, pretended not to observe it, content to 
abide his time. From Mrs. Shoddy’s actions he 
never for a moment doubted his success — and 
when that should be assured, he told himself, he 
would take a bitter revenge. Often and often he 
chuckled, as he pictured how he would humble 
Minerva and snub Brief. 

Meanwhile, however, no matter to what extent 
he was angered, he presented to all concerned the 
same calm, affable exterior. Many times, when he 


33 ^ 


Odd Types 


called at Briefs office, and the latter in response 
to his inquiry about Mrs. Shoddy, answered him 
evasively, and though he knew Mrs. Shoddy was 
expected in the city, gave not the slightest intima- 
tion of his knowledge. Demos, gritting his teeth, 
with an inimitable courtly bow would thank him, 
and would walk out, wearing the air of a man 
overflowing with the milk of human kindness. 
For a time this diplomatic behavior on the part of 
Demos blinded Brief completely, and his true 
state of mind would never have been discovered 
had not his own carelessness betrayed him. 

The betrayal occurred in this wise : On one of 
those off days, which even now occurred occa- 
sionally, Brief, while seated in his office, having 
nothing else to do, set himself to dreaming. He 
wanted to forecast the future, and so, with his 
hopes as a medium, began to indulge in those 
glittering, rainbow-tinted horoscopes, that all of 
us at times are prone to revel in. In his dreams, 
of course, the central figure was Minerva, around 
whose lovable person his nimble fancy wove as 
beautiful and attractive an environment as man’s 
brain could conceive. He pictured her by his 
side amid the lofty mountains, with their awe- 
inspiring peaks piercing the clouds, and with their 
slopes enveloped by that transparent bluish haze 
whose seductive beauty no painter yet has been 
able to fix upon his canvass. He pictured her be- 
side him on the golden strand by the shore of the 
sea, standing there, like a goddess, while at her 
feet the tumultuous waves doffed their white caps 
in tokens of obeisance. He pictured himself and 
her as lord and mistress in a castle, with massive 


Odd Types 


333 


stone turrets and great green swards, with luxur- 
iant furnishings and numerous retinue, with vast 
outlying woodlands, teeming with game, and 
pretty silvery streams, a veritable paradise for 
anglers ; with cultivated fields, and fine-blooded 
cattle, and with a thousand other desirable fea- 
tures, when, as he was about to build more castles 
in the air (with Minerva’s money, of course), 
there suddenly appeared before him an ugly ogre 
in the semblance of Daniel Demos, and caused in- 
stantly the whole dainty, fairy fabric to fall to the 
ground and vanish. 

The sudden transition from such gorgeous sur- 
roundings to a dingy law office somewhat dazed 
Brief, and for a few moments he stared at Demos 
like one out of his mind. 

^‘H’m ! friend Jim,” remarked Demos, with that 
inimitable sweep of the arm and bow of his, ‘‘you 
seem to have been wool-gathering.” 

“Yes,” answered Brief, smiling, “but no lambs 
have suffered any loss from it.” 

“I see,” continued Demos ; ‘it was a sort of con- 
gressional investigation — a proceeding that never 
harms and seldom benefits any one.” 

“Precisely.” 

“Well, I happened to be passing,” went on 
Demos, “and so I thought I would step in to see 
whether you have those agricultural statistics 
ready for me.” 

Brief gave a start, for as a matter of fact he had 
forgotten all about them. 

“They’re not yet quite completed,” said Brief, 
blushing violently. 

“Oh, well,” returned Demos, who had only 


334 


Odd Types 


used the inquiry as a subterfuge to approach a 
matter much nearer his heart, ‘‘don’t hurry. I 
won’t need them for another week probably. By 
the way, have you heard anything lately from 
your client, Mrs. Shoddy?” 

“Not a word,” answered Brief, and this time he 
was telling the truth. 

“H’m,” said Demos, who, having received a let- 
ter from the widow the previous day, announcing 
her intended visit to New York on the morrow, 
believed Brief was deceiving him, “it seems she 
has discontinued her trips to New York sine die/' 

“Just so,” replied Brief, at once becoming wary, 
and suspecting Demos of intending to pump him. 

“And the fair, young daughter ” 

“I know no more of her than of the mother,” 
interjected Brief snappishly, and in a tone that be- 
tokened irritation. 

“Ha! ha!” laughed Demos, in his usual, de- 
corous way, “I beg your pardon, Jim. It seems 
I’ve touched upon a subject that can only be dis- 
cussed in executive session.” Then taking out his 
watch and glancing at it, he added: “I must go 
now, but I shall probably,” and he paused to give 
the word emphasis, “be back again later,” and 
having delivered this, which he thought was a 
telling shot, he walked out with majestic stiff- 
ness. As he passed from Brief’s private office to 
the outer room, his frock coat happened to flap, 
and there fell from it a neatly-folded paper, 
which, by a singular gyration, twisted itself into a 
comer and lay there unobserved by either. 

Brief was just composing his straying wits, 
which had been sadly disordered by the sudden 


Odd Types 


B35 


appearance of Demos, when there hove into sight 
and came gliding toward him a tidy little craft, 
dubbed Minerva, followed by a floundering tub- 
like vessel, known among mortals as Mrs. 
Shoddy. It goes without saying that he hailed 
both heartily — Mrs. Shoddy for the sake of 
Minerva, and Minerva, for the sake of herself. 
Mrs. Shoddy explained their unexpected presence 
by stating that they had been on a shopping tour, 
and happening to be in the neighborhood, they 
thought they would step in a moment to see him. 
This was not the truth, but Brief, being innocent 
of that fact, expressed his appreciation. During 
the conversation that followed (and which, like 
all such conversations, when the parties have 
really nothing to say and are thinking of widely 
diverse matters, turned upon the weather), Mrs. 
Shoddy kept continually glancing at the door. 
She seemed to be expecting some one. But when 
after a lapse of ten minutes, during which all 
phases of the temperature had been thoroughly 
discussed and the subject exhausted, no one put 
in an appearance, Mrs. Shoddy, sighing, arose, 
and announced that they must be moving. 
Minerva, with whom Brief had been exchanging 
innumerable wireless messages with the eyes, also 
arose, but with great reluctance. 

“This visit has been very short,'’ remarked 
Brief to Mrs. Shoddy. 

“Short," answered Mrs. Shoddy. “You ought 
to be grateful, Mr. Brief ; for it's better to have 
short-cake than none at all. I'm sure, we hadn't 
the least idea of coming here when we started 
out." 


33 ^ 


Odd Typejs 


'T. see/^ returned Brief, smiling. ''It’s a visit — 
'obiter’ — as the legal phrase puts it. vShort as it 
has been, however, I have thoroughly enjoyed its 
sweetness,” and he threw a glance of deep ad- 
miration toward Minerva. Mrs. Shoddy by this 
time had steered her unwieldly bulk beyond the 
inner door, and was heading steadily toward the 
outer hall. 

"Hem!” coughed Brief, as Minerva started in 
the wake of her mother. At the signal, Minerva 
stopped, and looked back. "Minerva,” whispered 
Brief, ardently, as he held out his arms. 

"James,” murmured Minerva, retracing her 
steps and throwing herself in his embrace. 

"How long,” queried Brief, "will this suspense 
last ?” 

"What suspense, James?” 

"Before I can call you my own — my very 
own ?” 

"Only a month — just as I wrote you,” cooed 
Minerva. 

"Only a month ?” returned Brief. "And do you 
think I can bear it that long? Positively, I de- 
mur to this extension of time, dear.” 

"But what can I do?” asked Minerva, discon- 
solately. "Mamma is so watchful, you have no 
conception.” 

"Do,” replied Brief, smiling, "escape out of the 
jail limits.” 

"Jail limits?” repeated Minerva, puzzled. 

"Yes,” answered Brief. "To be plain, give 
your mother the slip, and if she accuses you of 
coming here alone, prove an alibi.” 


Odd Types 


337 

^^Nervy, Nervy/’ called Mrs. Shoddy from the 
hall. 

''I'm coming, ma/' answered Minerva. "You 
see, James/' she added in a lower tone, "how vigi- 
lant she is." 

"Well, it does take you the longest time," came 
Mrs. Shoddy's voice once more. 

"I'm coming, ma," again answered Minerva, 
and submitting to a parting kiss and with a prom- 
ise that she would try to return soon, this model 
daughter ran swiftly down the hall to where her 
mother was awaiting her. 

"What a dear creature she is," muttered Brief 
as he began to pace up and down his office. "Such 
an intelligent girl, too; perhaps a bit of a blue 
stocking, but that's no harm. By George, I'll 
marry her in spite of all. And I won't wait a 
month, either. Since her mother refuses to con- 
sent, I'll elope with her. Better men than I have 
done the same and never regretted it. Besides, 
in this instance, we aren't in any danger of starv- 
ing. Minerva's wealth, luckily, is amply suffi- 
cient for both ; and then, when we are married, I 
haven't the least doubt in the world but her 
mother will grant us a full pardon. Certainly, in 
whatever way I view it, the preponderance of 
proof lies on the side of her eligibility to be my 
wife, and" — here Brief raised his clenched fist in 
the air — "my wife she shall be before many days 
are gone. If only I can get Minerva to my way 
of thinking. There's the rub. It's — Hello," he 
exclaimed, descrying the paper in the corner; 
"what's that? I'll bet that boy of mine dropped 
it," and, stooping down, he picked it up. "No," 


Odd Types 


338 

murmured Brief in surprise, as he unfolded what 
proved to be two closely written sheets, ‘‘it’s none 
of mine. By Jove,” he added, glancing at the sig- 
nature, “it’s a letter — and from Demos to Mrs. 
Shoddy. Ha ! ha ! No doubt it’s full of elo- 
quence.” Then, without a thought of the sacri- 
lege he was committing by thus prying into the 
sacredness of private correspondence, he began to 
read. He had, however, only perused a few lines 
when a sudden thought seemed to strike him, and 
refolding it he slipped the paper into his pocket. 
“I’ll wait till Minerva comes,” he muttered, “and 
we’ll be guilty of the trover and conversion to- 
gether.” Then seating himself at his desk, he 
anxiously counted the minutes as they went 
slowly by. He had reached the number, twenty, 
when the door flew open, and Minerva, breathless, 
hurried in. 

“Oh, James,” she exclaimed, after a greeting 
customary between lovers, “fortune certainly 
favored me this time. We had hardly gone a 
block when whom should we meet but Mr. Demos. 
It is the first instance that I can recall, to have 
been delighted to see him. Knowing that mamma 
would not object, I suggested paying a visit to an 
old schoolmate of mine, and meeting her later at 
the depot. Oh, James, you should have seen 
with what alacrity mamma acquiesced. Of 
course,” added Minerva, looking archly at Brief, 
“you are the schoolmate.” 

“And life mate, too,” said Brief, embracing her. 

“Just see, James,” said Minerva, with playful 
reproachfulness, “how wicked you have made me. 


Odd Types 339 

Here I have told a deliberate falsehood to my 
mother just for your sake/’ 

'‘Under the circumstances/* said Brief, laugh- 
ingly, “the court believes your conduct fully 
justified. You are, therefore, honorably acquitted 
of the charge. In token of which we have this 
day and date set our hand and seal,” and he 
pressed a kiss on the tempting red lips. ^ 

“James,” ejaculated Minerva, resting unre- 
sistingly in his arms, “I am surprised.” 

“Surprised?” said Brief. “At what?** 

“At your boldness,” replied Minerva. 

“Why,” answered Brief, “impudence is a law- 
yer’s stock in trade. If I hadn’t that I’d leave the 
profession at once.” 

“Oh !” exclaimed Minerva, seeing a white pa- 
per projecting from his pocket, “what is that?” 

“That,” said Brief, clapping his hand to the 
pocket to prevent Minerva from pulling out its 
contents, “that’s a secret.” 

“What — another girl !’* exclaimed Minerva, 
jumping away in feigned suspicion. 

“No, no,” said Brief. “No fear of that. Philan- 
thropist as I am, I have only sufficient love to 
satisfy one. Guess again.” 

Like a woman, to pass from the feigned to the 
actual was the work of a moment. From pre- 
tending jealousy, Minerva began to feel it. 

“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” said she, pouting. 
“If you do not care to divulge the secret of your 
own free will, you may keep it, for my part, for- 
ever,” and she tossed up her head defiantly. 

“Oh, come, come,’* said Brief, in a most tanta- 




340 Odd Types 

lizing way, *^you can easily guess. It concerns 
some one we both know/" 

As he spoke he took a step towards her. 

"‘Please keep your distance, sir,"’ exclaimed 
Minerva, rearing herself haughtily. 

“What,"" cried Brief, laughing. “Angry! Well, 
now, I was only joking. Here, see for yourself,” 
and he handed Minerva the letter, she taking it 
with the tips of her fingers. 

“Have I your permission, noble sir?"" asked 
Minerva, with ironical humility, as she unfolded 
the paper. 

“You have, dearest lady,"" replied Brief, with 
comic grandiosity. 

The ridiculous manner in which Brief delivered 
this last sally forced Minerva to smile, seeing 
which Brief was emboldened to go up to her and, 
as she spread out the letter, peer over her shoul- 
der. 

Woman-like, instead of starting at the begin- 
ning, Minerva, after a glance at the opening lines, 
turned to the last page — in order, of course, to 
read the end. 

“Why,” she exclaimed, “it is an epistle from 
Mr. Demos — and to mamma. Where did you 
obtain it, James?” 

“I found it in the office here,” replied Brief. 
“Your mother, or Mr. Demos, must have dropped 
it.” 

“I’ll venture it’s a billet-doux. You read it, 
James.” 

“Whatever it is,” said Brief, taking the letter 
from her, “it was certainly written with great 


Odd Types 


341 

care. Just note the letters — how perfectly they 
are formed/^ 

‘‘Oh, Mr. Demos writes a splendid hand,^' com- 
mented Minerva, “but the orthography, James, is 
wretched. However, do let us peruse this effu- 
sion. If it is at all similar to the one I saw the 
other day, it will be certain to prove highly amus- 
ing. 

“Then you have seen others queried Brief. 

“Only one, James. And, oh, wasn’t it a curio! 
Of all epistolary efforts it certainly was the mOvSt 
ludicrous I ever saw. Such comparisons and 
such bombast! Dear me, why he inserted por- 
tions of his speech in it — and imagine, James — 
requested mamma to express her opinion on 
them. Just conceive of mamma setting up as a 
critic !” and Minerva began to laugh. 

“Ha! ha!” joined in Brief, “it’s like— ha! 
ha ! ” 

“Yes, James, just like it,” interjected Minerva, 
still laughing. 

“I was about to say,” continued Brief, “it’s like 
asking a Sioux Indian to criticize Daniel Web- 
ster,” and Brief emitted a loud guffaw. 

“Now, James, I take that ill,” said Miranda, 
suddenly becoming sober. “Remember, you are 
speaking of my mother.” 

“No — no — I didn’t mean that,” said Brief, see- 
ing that Minerva felt hurt. “That was a slip of 
the tongue. Forgive me, won’t you?” Minerva 
seeming to hesitate, he slipped his arm about her, 
and tipped up her face so that he could look into 
her eyes. “You forgive me, don’t you?’^ 


342 


Odd Types 


‘‘On one condition only/’ answered Minerva, 
warding him off with her hand. 

“And that is?” 

“That you wdll never,” replied Minerva, with 
the punctilious air of a school mistress, “employ 
such a degrading simile again.” 

“I promise,” said Brief, with mock solemnity, 
“on my word as a lawyer.” 

“As a lawyer,” repeated Minerva. “Then I 
surely cannot trust you.” 

“As a lover, then,” answered Brief. 

“That will suffice,” said Minerva, and she per- 
mitted him again to steal the nectar from her lips. 
Brief, however, hovered over them so long that 
finally Minerva was forced to remonstrate. 
“Now, that will do, James,” said she. “You are 
the most insatiable being IVe ever met,” but the 
tone of voice in which she uttered the remon- 
strance was far from expressing disapproval. 
“Come, let us go on with the letter.” 

“Oh, yes,” said Brief, “Td almost forgotten it.” 
Then clearing his throat. Brief, with burlesque 
gravity, began to straighten out the sheets pre- 
paratory to reading them. 

“I think I can predict how he’ll begin,”. said 
Minerva, laughing. “Perfumed rose, thou sweet 
plant, that hast sent thy shoots so deep into my 
heart — ^ha ! ha !” 

“And which,” added Brief, “art now in the 
zenith of thy bloom — ha! ha!” 

“Why, those are his very words, James,” ex- 
claimed Minerva in surprise. “How did you 
guess them?” 


Odd Types 


343 


^Tft’s easy enough/' replied Brief unguardedly. 
'Tt's all in my book on Tractical Quotations.' " 

‘'Oh ! Is that, too, where you procure all those 
pretty sentiments you send me?" asked Minerva, 
. mischievously. 

“Now, Minerva, that is an unkind remark," ob- 
served Brief, becoming sober in his turn. ‘TDon't 
you think my love for you of sufficient strength 
to coin its own expressions ? Do you believe " 

“The letter, James," interrupted Minerva. 

“Oh, hang the letter!" exclaimed Brief, petu- 
lantly. 

“There, now, IVe had enough," said Minerva, 
in disgust. “Fm going," and turning toward the 
door, she made a feint as though to start away. 

“I ask your pardon, dear. I forgot myself. 
Stay, won't you?" pleaded Brief, taking a posi- 
tion in front of her. 

“Let me pass, sir,’' commanded Minerva, 
sternly. 

Seeing how determined she was. Brief resolved 
to try a ruse, which he had heard always proved 
effective in such situations. 

“Very well, Minerva," said he, in a disconso- 
late tone of voice, standing aside. “Since you 
wish it — farewell! When next you hear of me 
perhaps your contrite heart will have forgotten 
my foibles, and will shed a tear of compassion 
upon my flowerless grave," and plumping down in 
his chair near the desk he simk his head on his 
' breast, the picture of despair. Minerva for a mo- 
ment remained motionless, then began to waver, 
and the next instant went hurrying towards him. 


344 


Odd Types 


“Oh, James, she exclaimed, throwing her arms 
about his neck, “can you forgive me T' 

“Can I?'' cried Brief, again as bright as ever, 
and affectionately stroking the entwining arms 
with his hands. “What a superfluous question! 
It is like asking if Dante could forgive Beatrice, 
or Petrarch, Laura.'' 

“Dear me, how classic!" said Minerva, laugh- 
ing. “After such allusions the noble Demos will 
certainly prove delicious." 

“Oh, yes," exclaimed Brief, at the hint taking 
up the letter again. “In indulging in irrelevant 
matter, I fear we have wandered far from the 
issue." As he glanced at the paper he began to 
laugh. “Ha! ha! — here's an exordium for you. 
‘My esteemed and confidential friend ' " 

“Esteemed," commented Minerva, leaning over 
Brief's shoulder, “spelled e-s-t-e-a-m-e-d, ha ! 
ha !" — then suddenly her laughter stopped. “Dear 
me, what's that?" she exclaimed, bending over a 
little more, and with Brief, continuing to peruse 
the letter in silence. 

For some minutes both scanned the lines with 
apparently increasing interest. As they neared 
the end, Brief's face, which had begun gradually 
to change from complacent good humor to deep 
amazement, became flushed with intense anger, 
and jumping up and striking his fist violently on 
the desk, he exclaimed: “Ha! the rogue! the 
scoundrel ! So that is his game, is it ! Let him 
show himself again in this office, and, by Jove, 
I'll— I'll throttle him." 

Minerva, to assure herself that she had seen 


Odd Types 


345 

aright, took up the letter and read these lines 
again — this time aloud : 

‘Let me warn you in time. Mr. Brief and 
your daughter are too much in each other’s com- 
pany. If you would prevent that which neither 
you nor I approve, it would be well to keep a 
stricter watch over her. You cannot be too care- 
ful. This lobbying of Mr. Brief, if not stopped 
at once, is likely to carry through the very meas- 
ure you oppose. Minerva may say Aye at any 
moment, and there being no opposition to cast a 
dissenting vote, Mr. Brief’s proposition may be 
approved and passed before you know where you 
are at.’ Oh, James,” exclaimed Minerva, “we are, 
discovered.” 

Brief compressed his lips. 

“Ha! The sneaking cur,” he ejaculated, “I’ll 
repay him for this, depend on it. Just let him 
come” — with increasing emphasis — “let him 
come — ^the contemptible ape — the dirty ” Be- 

fore Brief could say any more. Demos, whose ap- 
proach had been unobserved by either, appeared 
in the doorway. When Minerva saw him, she 
instinctively turned her back, in the desperate 
hope that he had not recognized her. As for 
Brief, to hide his confusion, he went at Demos 
with a rush, and seizing his hand began to wring 
it effusively. “Why, my dear fellow,” he ex- 
claimed, “are you back again ?” 

“Only for a minute,” answered Demos, 
glancing with darkened brow from one to the 
other. Then, looking hard in the direction of 
Minerva, he added sarcastically : “It seems I was 


346 


Odd Types 


not expected. Had I known that there was a se- 
cret committee meeting, I 

“Oh, dear me,’’ broke in Minerva, hastily drop- 
ping her glove, and putting her foot on it, “here 
I’ve been searching for the last half hour, and 
cannot find my glove. Mamma, I fear, will be 

worrying about me. A ” Then turning 

around, and pretending to have discovered 
Demos’s identity for the first time, she added: 
“Why, it’s Mr. Demos.” 

“The same. Miss Shoddy,” answered that 
statesman, with his usual courtly bow. “I 
thought,” he went on, with a shade of irony in his 
voice, “I heard you tell your esteemed mother 
that you were going to visit a schoolmate.” 

“So I was,” answered Minerva vivaciously, 
trying to appear at ease. “But hardly had I left 
dear mamma when I discovered the loss of my 
glove. Isn’t it annoying! It certainly must be 
here somewhere,” and she glanced about again on 
the pretence of renewing her search. 

“If I am not mistaken, it is right there,” said 
Demos, pointing at her foot. 

“Oh, so it is !” exclaimed Minerva, turning red, 
as she stooped to pick up the errant article. “How 
stupid of me not to have looked.” 

“What a dissembler !” muttered Demos. Then 
he added aloud: “If you are going to the depot 
I will do myself the honor to accompany you.” 

“Oh,” returned Minerva hastily, anxious to 
avoid such an escort, “mamma hardly expects me 
so early. And yet” — this with a forced sigh — 
“it is too late to visit dear Miriam.” 

“I am very sorry,” interposed Brief, with a 


Odd Types 


347 


most sanctimonious mien, ‘T)ut under the circum- 
stances I see only one thing to do, and that is to 
remain here until train time/' Then, turning 
abruptly toward Demos, as though he believed 
him about to go, he added: ‘‘Good-bye, old man. 
Come again soon/' 

This certainly was the strongest kind of a 
hint, and ordinarily Demos would have taken it ; 
but, on this occasion, anxious as he was to run to 
Mrs. Shoddy and inform her of his discovery of 
her daughter's intrigue, the chance of irritating 
the young people by remaining was not to be re- 
sisted. In response, therefore, to Brief's rather 
inhospitable words, he said : “I think friend Jim's 
suggestion, that you remain here, is a wise one. 
In order that the time may pass more quickly, I 
will bear you company." 

“Oh, that is very kind of you, indeed," re- 
marked Minerva, boiling inwardly with indigna- 
tion. 

“We can never have too much of you, I'm 
sure," said Brief, with flattering condescension, 
though secretly he was wishing Demos in a place 
of very high temperature. 

“I am convinced of that, friend Jim. I am con- 
vinced of that," returned Demos, depositing his 
silk hat on the desk, opening his frock coat, and 
to the dismay of Brief and Minerva, extracting 
out of his inner pocket a bulky manuscript. “To 
help you while away the time," he continued, 
pulling out his eyeglasses and adjusting them, 
“I'll just read you a little excerpt from my latest 
speech." 

“O torture," whispered Brief to Minerva, as 


348 


Odd Types 


Demos looked over the pages to deride where to 
start, ‘'he’s going to bore us with that stuff again. 
This is worse than a Spanish inquisition,” and 
lifting the lid of a tin box that stood on his desk, 
Brief in his vexation of spirit slammed it shut 
with a bang. 

“Fury!” exclamed Demos, giving a start, and 
looking over the rims of his glasses, “what was 
that?” 

“Nothing — nothing,” replied Brief, dryly. 

“Let me see,” said Demos, again running his 
eyes over the paper before him; “ah, yes, here it 
is. I shall begin thus : ‘Mr. Speaker : — Standing 
here as I do, amid the representatives of forty- 
five states, all of whose stars are glittering with 
undimmed fire on the floating emblem of our 
country, F — Just let me explain this expression,” 
said Demos, breaking off, and looking up toward 
Brief and Minerva, but not closely observing 

them. “You see, I say that because ” Here 

Demos stopped suddenly. To his surprise and 
chagrin, he beheld Brief and Minerva standing 
with their backs toward him and looking at the 
law books, wholly oblivious of his existence. This 
was too much, even for Demos, and so, pushing 
his speech back into his pocket, he grimly but- 
toned up his coat, and dashing his hat on his 
head, strode away without another word — his 
anger too great for utterance. 

A moment afterward. Brief, who had been ex- 
changing empty nothings with Minerva, looking 
back, noted Demos’s absence. 

“Ah,” he exclaimed, joyously, “he’s gone. 
What a relief !” 


Odd Types 


349 


‘Oh, James,” wailed Minerva, “I fear he has 
returned to mamma. If he has, what a terrible 
tale he’ll tell about me !” 

“Let him say what he pleases,” returned Brief, 
now as full of spirits as a boy just out of school. 
“Just cling to that story about the glove, and all 
will be well.” 

“But mamma may not believe me.” 

“She will, if you use tact,” said Brief. “To be 
sure, if you blurt out the whole story the moment 
you see her, she’ll suspect your veracity at once ; 
but if, on the other hand, you let her draw you 
out — cross-examine you, as it were — she’ll believe 
every word.” 

“You are sure, James?” queried Minerva, with 
half-smiling soberness. 

“Sure,” answered Brief, with a brisk air. “Only 
I want to warn you against two things. Don’t 
particularize and don’t volunteer any information. 
Many a witness’s story has split on those two 
rocks. Answer shortly and to the point, and the 
verdict will be in your favor.” 

“All right, teacher,” said Minerva, with a sigh, 
stroking his face playfully. 

“Teacher, eh,” said Brief, boldly, catching 
Minerva in his arms. “Well, if I am a tutor, I am 
one of those who always exacts pay for his tui- 
tion,” and drawing her towards hirn, he again 
presented her with one of those gifts of which 
lovers are so lavish. 

Brief was about to duplicate the present when 
the outer door opened and admitted Phil Gloom. 
Instantly the two sprang apart. 

“Oh, Mr. Brief, what book is that up there?” 


350 Odd Types 

queried Minerva, precipitately, trying to appear 
very innocent. 

“That,"' answered Brief, following her lead, 
“let me see — ^that is T)rake on Attachment," "" and 
climbing on a chair, he pretended to reach out for 
it. 

“Never mind. Brief,"" volunteered Gloom from 
the doorway, with an amused air, “you needn't 
take it down. You evidently already understand 
that subject very well." 

“Why — a — Mr. Gloom," exclaimed Brief, 
feigning surprise, “how are you? I — a — ^hope — 
I — a — trust — a " 

“No need of apology. Brief," said Gloom, in a 
nonchalant manner that strongly contrasted with 
the fine, melancholy features, “I'll not berate you. 
My moral harangues have ceased long ago." 

“Oh, Mr. Gloom," exclaimed Minerva, coming 
toward Phil, and extending him a hand grace- 
fully. “I am charmed to see you. Really " 

standing off and surveying him — “you have im- 
proved wonderfully since we last met." 

“Think so?’" said Phil, with just the suspicion 
of a sigh. 

“Truly, I do. You have changed remarkably — 
remarkably, and, pardon me for saying so, I think 
for the better. Your air is much more friendly 
than it was before. Pray, tell us, what is the 
talisman ?"" * 

“Talisman? There is none," answered Phil, 
with a grim smile that of late frequently played 
about his lips. “I have merely cast away my con- 
science, and become a man of the world — that’s 


Odd Types 35^ 

all. I do no longer what is right, but what is 
pleasant."^ 

^‘Since that is the case,’’ remarked Brief, ‘T 
think Minerva and I can safely trust you with 
our secret.” To this, Minerva nodded approval. 

“There is no need of disclosing what is so ap- 
parent,” returned Phil. “Any one can easily see 
that you are lovers.” 

“You have guessed it, Mr. Gloom,” said Brief. 
“Minerva and I are engaged to be married ; but 
for the present the engagement is secret. There 
is opposition on the part of Mrs. Shoddy, which, 
of course, we hope in time to overcome ; but while 
it exists we think it the part of prudence to keep 
our relations under cover.” 

“Ah, indeed !” commented Gloom. 

“This explanation,” went on Brief, rather hesi- 
tatingly, “is preliminary to asking you not to dis- 
close it to any one.” 

“Have no fear. Brief. With me your secret is 
safe.” 

“In fact, we would prefer, if you’ll not mention 
having seen us to-day at all.” 

“I can promise that, also,” answered Phil, 
adding with somewhat of his former cynicism, “I 
have already learned to lie without blushing.” 

“Really, you put us under deep obligations,” 
said Brief. 

“We can never repay you, Mr. Gloom,” joined 
in Minerva. 

“Perhaps, if you could, you wouldn’t,” returned 
Phil, dryly. 

“Oh, Mr. Gloom,” protested both. 

“Never mind,” interrupted Phil, “I’ll not put 


35 ^ 


Odd Types 


you to the test. I expect no repayment. But tell 
me,” added he, with the same grim smile as be- 
fore, ‘'have you considered carefully the step you 
are about to take ? Have you calculated how long 
your affection for each other will endure ?” 

“For life,” answered Brief, warmly. 

“Assuredly for life,” repeated Minerva. 

“For life,” said Phil, the grim smile passing 
away, and leaving on his features a sombre 
shadow in its stead, “is a long — a very long time. 
At least, that has been my experience. Human 
moods in these days unfortunately are not stead- 
fast, and you both must admit that lifelong im- 
prisonment of the affections in one narrow cell is 
certainly too severe a punishment for a momen- 
tary infatuation. I may be wrong, but I fear 
that in later years you will regret your action.” 

“Never,” exclaimed Brief. 

“Certainly never,” chorused Minerva, shaking 
her head vigorously. 

“So you say now,” sighed Phil. “So all young 
lovers say. But how few — how very few — keep 
their word! In former times when this country 
was still young, and the maddening race for 
money had not yet begun, there were perhaps, 
here and there, marriages contracted out of pure 
affection. But in this age of luxury and ravening 
hunger for wealth, — affection and all the noble 
qualities to which it gives rise, are extremely rare. 
As long as money is plentiful, so long love con- 
tinues, and man and wife endure each other 
without experiencing inconvenience. But when 
conditions change, when want comes and destitu- 
tion stares them in the face — tliat terrible ordeal 


Odd Types 


353 


through which only the purest love can pass un- 
altered — then how few — how very few — ^are able 
to bear the test ! The husband becomes irritable, 
inconsiderate, brutal, and often conceives a hatred 
toward the creature he has sworn to love ; while 
the wife, formerly so lovable, becomes soured, bit- 
ter and a vixen. No — no,’’ went on Phil, as he 
saw Brief about to speak, ‘T know what yon 
would say. I admit that we sometimes hear of 
cases of unselfish devotion ; but the fact that so 
much comment is made upon them, shows how 
exceptional they are. Yet this should not be. 
They ought to be the rule, and not the exception.” 

'To what purpose is this homily ?” asked Brief, 
with some show of impatience, as he perceived the 
bad impression it was making upon Minerva. 

"To what purpose?” returned Phil, not to be 
swerved from his theme. "To this purpose. That 
I want to warn you two to think well before you 
venture into matrimony. At the present day, only 
such fools and madmen like myself, who still 
cling to the womout ideas about the sacredness of 
marriage, and the sanctity of an oath and the 
chivalrous duties owing by man to woman, be- 
lieve in wedding for love. Happily, we are few 
in number and daily growing less. Nowadays 
there is little difference between a mistress and a 
v/ife, except in name. The affections of both are 
a matter of barter and sale, with,^ however, this 
distinction : You can get rid of a mistress, but you 
can’t of a wife.” 

"What a horrible world it is T’ exclaimed 
Minerva. "I think, James ” 

"What, sweet?” asked Brief, anxiously. 


354 


Odd Types 


"That — that we- ’’ 

“Had better marry at once? All right, just as 
you say/’ 

""No — no,” returned Minerva, in haste. ""On 
the contrary, I think we ought to give the subject 
more study before committing ourselves.” Then 
drawing out her watch, she added: ""Oh, dear 
me, I must hasten to rejoin mamma. Good day, 
Mr. Gloom. Good day, Mr. Brief,” and without 
so much as another look she walked out, her face 
wearing a very sober mien. 

‘"Now, you’ve done it,” exclaimed Brief, dis- 
gustedly to Gloom. ""After all my labor in bring- 
ing her to the point where she was ready to do 
whatever I asked, you come in, and by a single 
stroke, destroy all.” 

""You will perhaps thank me for it some day,” 
returned Gloom. “Besides, if she cherishes a real 
affection for you, all I have said will have little 
weight with her. If, on the other hand, she is 
frightened so easily, then her affection is not 
worth having, and I have prevented another 
mesalliance.” 

""Mesalliance.” exclaimed Brief, bristling, his 
pride touched to the quick. ""Surely, Mr. Gloom, 
you do not mean to impute that I am not good 
enough for her. Against her wealth, I place my 
hopes, my honorable profession, my ” 

"‘You mistake me completely. Brief,” answered 
Gloom. ""I meant nothing of the kind. By mesal- 
liance, I did not refer, as you seem to think, to 
worldly station, but to the feelings. If there is 
ardent love on one side and only a pale sickly 


Odd Types 


355 


regard on the other, that, to my mind, is the most 
horrible mesalliance that can be conceived of/" 

''Oh, I see,"" answered Brief, mollified, ."you re- 
ferred to a proper joinder of parties, as we say in 
pleading. Well, I think you are right. And from 
what I know of Minerva, she loves me too well 
not to return to her allegiance. Besides, I will not 
give her up. I love her too much for that."" 

In Briefs mind, Minerva"s fortune and per- 
sonality were so closely interwoven that he com- 
mitted the common error of confounding the two, 
and of believing homage to the one, adoration of 
the other. 

"If it is as you say,"" remarked Gloom care- 
lessly, 'T wish you success. And now,"" he added, 
turning abruptly to his own affairs, "I wish to 
talk to you about my action for divorce. I met 
Mr. Felice this morning, and had a long talk with 
him."" 

"What !"" exclaimed Brief, in surprise. "You 
talked to that man ?’" 

"Why not?"" returned Gloom, in a matter-of- 
fact way. "For what he has done I have forgiven 
him long ago. Like the rest of the world, I will 
visit all the punishment on the woman."" 

"But think "" remonstrated Brief. 

"No, Brief,"" interrupted Gloom, "the time for 
thinking is past. Since the reversal of my senti- 
ments I have given up thought. As Felice says, 
to become a man of the world, one must not 
think."" 

"But "" again began Brief. 

"A truce to your 'buts," exclaimed Phil, be- 


356 Odd Types 

coming irri table. are my lawyer — ^not my 

minister.” 

Fearing lest further argument might lose him 
his client, Brief discreetly desisted. Then, in re- 
sponse to Gloom^s inquiries, he explained to the 
latter the successive legal steps necessary to be 
taken before the final decree could be obtained ; 
and having also answered several questions in ref- 
erence to other matters connected with Gloom’s 
affairs, after a consultation of some two hours, 
they parted. 

‘Tl’m,” muttered Brief, as he watched Gloom’s 
receding form, "'he seems devilish anxious for 
that divorce. I wonder what’s the motive? An- 
other woman ? Ah, that is it ! Dolly Dash !” 

Who was the greater cynic — Brief or Gloom ? 




Odd Types 


3S7 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE POINT OF VIEW. 

From the day that Phil Gloom and his wife sep- 
arated, his visits to his protegee, Dolly, became 
more frequent. It seemed as though the contem- 
plation of this being, snatched according to Phil's 
idea from the rending claws of society, repaid 
him for much of his suffering. The sight of her 
quiet contentment, the exhibition of her profound 
gratitude which she evinced in all her actions, her 
shy sympathy for him in his troubles and the 
thought that he, unaided and alone, had wrested 
her from the cruel maw of the social Jugger- 
naut, seemed to him a sufficient compensation for 
all the ills he considered himself to have endured 
at its hands. Frequently, as he listened to her 
light prattle, in which a heart, innocent of guile, 
poured out its thoughts unrestrainedly and with- 
out tinge of evil, and in which the warm throb of 
pure affection could easily be discerned, he was 
fain to compare this poor, little bird, with its brok- 
en wings, to the hard, dry, unfeeling and thor- 
oughly selfish beings who swept their way with 
disgusting pride through the ranks of respecta- 
bility, with a sneer on their lips toward their 
fallen sisters, and with a sycophantic humility to- 


Odd Types 


358 

ward the man whom they wished to inveigle into 
their toils — ^and, in the comparison, he was in- 
clined to award the palm of superiority to the 
sinner. Not that Phil, for one moment, con- 
doned the infraction of moral laws. Far from it. 
In fact, he was more severe than most men upon 
pure wantonness; but, as he often said, society 
should discriminate and not condemn all unfortu- 
nate women alike. Many, as in Dolly^s case, had 
erred, not from vicious instinct, but from too 
great guilelessness; and since the men, who en- 
compassed their ruin, were not only pardoned, 
but often applauded for their acts, it was both un- 
fair and unjust to condemn their victims. 

Dolly felt deeply grateful toward Phil for his 
disinterested kindness, and it redoubled her re- 
spect for him. 

She had been very unhappy when she had heard 
of his estrangement from Miranda, and had re- 
mained awake many a night trying to form a plan 
to bring about their reconciliation. In her eager- 
ness, she had broached the subject to Phil so 
many times that finally the latter forbade her to 
mention it at all. Reluctantly, she obeyed him. 
But one evening, shortly after his visit to Brief, 
at which he had ordered the lawyer to start the 
divorce proceedings, Phil seemed so much more 
depressed than usual that her warm interest in his 
affairs prompted her again to violate his injunc- 
tion, even at the risk of a reprimand. Nay, 
more, at the risk of offending him, and thus losing 
the best friend she had ever had in the world. To 
be sure,- who would be so foolhardy as to concern 
themselves at such terrible odds with the heart- 


Odd Types 


359 


aches of others, but a tainted woman? Poor, ig- 
norant Dolly! with all the awful experiences 
through which she had gone, she had yet failed 
to learn that no crime is so severely punished as 
that of unselfish affection. 

Phil evidently observed that Dolly noticed his 
depression, and so, in order to remove the re- 
membrance of it, he started to assume that air of 
cynical gayety which of late he had frequently 
made use of to conceal his real feelings. This 
was Dolly’s opportunity, and pretending to be de- 
ceived, she led him with consummate adroitness 
to a discussion of his domestic troubles. Gently 
but firmly she defended Miranda against his 
aspersions and championed her cause so success- 
fully that at length Phil, in order to save himself 
from defeat, arose, and with the remark, “You 
don’t understand this matter, child,” took his de- 
parture. 

But Dolly did understand it, and in the course 
of their conversation had with her womanly in- 
stinct divined what Phil with all his wisdom was 
not aware of — that he still loved his wife. 

Dolly, feeling certain of this, and believing that 
if a little more time were given him for reflection, 
Phil would surely forego his present resolve, she 
determined on the morrow to go to New York 
and visit Brief, and try all her persuasive powers 
toward inducing him to retard, as much as possi- 
ble, the progress of the divorce suit. 

The next day broke bright and beautiful. It 
was early spring, and the light, cool breeze that 
tempered pleasantly the warmth of the sun, sang 
its way through the rustling leaves like a soul 


360 


Odd Types 


without a care. The birds opened their little 
throats to their widest limits to pour out their 
golden paeans of delight, while the humbler in- 
sects raised their croon in unison to celebrate the 
approach of the warmer season. Even man, dis- 
contented, ill-tempered creature that he is, felt 
the influence of this universal sense of joy, and 
for a short time, at least, sufficiently forgot his 
miserable intrigues to remark the beauty of na- 
ture. 

Of this species, certainly none entered more 
into the spirit of the day than Brief. True, even 
if it had been murky, and a dull, dark, dismal 
blanket of moisture had enveloped the earth, it 
could not have smothered the glow of rapture that 
filled the lawyer’s heart; but since it was decid- 
edly otherwise. Briefs elation was doubly high. 
And had he not good reason ? Who can ever for- 
get the suffocating sense of triumph he has ex- 
perienced at sight of his name for the first time in 
big type in a newspaper? What an enormous 
amount of respect for yourself it engenders! 
What vistas of future greatness it opens up 1 Ah ! 
the newspaper, that mighty record of little men, 
how many there are who mistake its blatant blare 
for the trumpet-note of fame ! 

As with the many, so with Brief. Called upon, 
on the previous day, by a reporter from the prin- 
cipal paper in the village where Phil Gloom resid- 
ed, and questioned respecting the pending divorce 
suit of Gloom versus Gloom, Brief had immedi- 
ately recognized the chance of making himself 
notable, and had treated this poor drudge of the 
pen as though he were the minister plenipoten- 


Odd Types 


361 

tiary of some great government. He had done 
this, of course, with the deep design of obtaining 
for himself a flattering notice — one that would 
impress upon the world the greatness of his abil- 
ity. 

With springy step, therefore, and vaulting- 
spirit, albeit slightly tempered by anxiety lest, 
after all, the reporter might not have done him 
justice. Brief started for his office. As he entered. 
Clumsy was at the desk in the outer room, trying 
to soak up with a blotter a quantity of ink which, 
through his usual awkwardness, he had upset and 
spilled. 

‘‘Any mail this morning asked Brief cheerily, 
passing into his private sanctum. 

“Yes, sir,'^ answered Clumsy, gathering up 
some letters and packages, and managing to 
bring them to Brief with only a single stumble in 
the transit. “Four letters and two newspapers,’^ 
and turning, he started with a shuffling gait for 
the door. 

“One moment. Clumsy,’’ said Brief, as the lad 
was about to retire. Clumsy stood still. “Can 
you tell me,” queried Brief, unctuously, “how 
long you have been with me ?” 

“Going onto a year, sir,” answered Clumsy, his 
eyes blinking with great rapidity in his efforts to 
guess the reason of this strange question. 

“And during that time,” continued Brief, in 
the same manner, “I have paid you, I believe, 
three dollars per week, have I not ?” 

“Yes, sir,” answered Clumsy, almost dropping 
with fear lest Brief should announce a reduction 
of salary, or a dismissal. 


362 


Odd Types 


‘'Well, Qumsy,” went on Brief, his breast ex- 
panding perceptibly, “I have a great surprise in 
store for you. Your faithfulness has touched me 
deeply, and as you shall see very soon, is not to 
go unrewarded. Before, however, imparting to 
you your good fortune, I wish to impress upon 
your mind that you must not stop there. To 
stand still is to retrograde. Keep on striving, ever 
and always, and above everything, in all your 
dealings be upright. Remember, Clumsy, it pays 

to be upright ’’ Just then Clumsy in trying to 

shift his legs got them twisted and stumbled. 
“Didn’t you hear me say,” exclaimed Brief, 
sharply, “that it pays to be upright ” 

“Yes, sir. I’ll try, sir,” answered Clumsy, 
gathering himself together. 

“By being straightforward,” continued Brief, 
“and true to the interests of your employer, you 
will be certain, sooner or later, to reach the top 
rung of success. Now, as I said before, I have 
noted with pleasure the faithfulness with which 
you have served me, and considering the present 
a proper time to show my appreciation, have de- 
cided” — and Brief looked narrowly at Clumsy to 
note the effect of the announcement — “to raise 
your salary.” 

At the words, “raise your salary,” Clumsy be- 
came so excited that in an effort to straighten up 
he toppled over. 

“There,” cried Brief in disgust, “what have you 
tumbled over now ?” 

“Nothing, sir,” answered Clumsy, grinning 
and regaining his equilibrium. 

“Nothing?^’ 


Odd Types 


363 

*^es, sir, nothing/’ returned Qumsy, his 
mouth assuming still wider dimensions. 
couldn’t have tumbled, sir, if there’d been some- 
thing there.” 

‘‘You couldn’t — Ha! ha!” laughed Brief; 
“that’s good logic, to say the least. If you im- 
prove that faculty you’ll make a great pleader yet. 
But to return to the issue. Did you hear what I 
just now said?” 

“Oh, yes, indeed, sir.” 

“What was it?” asked Brief, assuming a quiz- 
zical air. 

“That you were going to raise my salary,” an- 
swered Clumsy. Then he added gratuitously, 
“You don’t catch me forgettin’ anything like 
that.” 

“Exactly,” responded Brief. “And in doing 
so I shall consider rather the value than the length 
of service, and shall not be niggardly. In fact,” 
added Brief, in a burst of confidence, “whenever 
I give I make it a point to give freely.” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Clumsy deferentially. Then, 
rubbing his hand up and down his left thigh in 
self-congratulation, he muttered : “I’m in for a 
dollar sure.” 

“Now, Clumsy,” went on Brief, with imposing 
emphasis, “after careful consideration, I have 
concluded, though it may seem rather large, to 
pay you an advance of ” 

“Yes, sir,” interrupted Clumsy, eagerly. 

“One-sixth ” 

“One-sixth?” gasped Clumsy. 

“One-sixth,” reiterated Brief, “of your present 
salary. There,” he exclaimed, with a triumphant 


364 


Odd Types 


sweep of the arm, 'Vhat do you think of that? 
Fifty cents per week more !’’ And he beamed at 
Clumsy with the same air of benevolence that we 
often see enveloping the person of some rich or- 
phan asylum patron when he bestows a pair of 
cheap shoes on some parentless child. 

Instead of elation, Clumsy’s face showed dis- 
tinct signs of disappointment. 

‘‘What’s the matter?” asked Brief, after a mo- 
ment’s pause. “Aren’t you pleased ?” 

“Oh, yes — yes, sir. I — I — I’m — I’m very 
glad,” stuttered Clumsy. Then muttered dis- 
gustedly : “I’ve got to 1^.” 

“I should think you would be,” commented 
Brief, his heart warmed by what he regarded as 
an act of great generousness. “If all employes 
had their wages raised one-sixth at the end of 
their first year of employment, they would ac- 
count themselves very fortunate. But this is not 
all,” continued Brief. At these words. Clumsy 
immediately became alert again. “If I find you 
continue true to me, and unspoiled by your pres- 
ent good fortune I will at the proper time go 
even further, and start you on the road to become 
a lawyer. Now, sir, there is the golden oppor- 
tunity. See that you make the best use of it.” 

“Oh, I will — I will, sir,” answered Clumsy, 
with forced enthusiasm. 

“Well, I hope so,” said Brief, and selecting the 
package bearing the postmark of the town of the 
Glooms, he gave Clumsy a nod of the head to in- 
dicate that he should retire. At the signal Clumsv 
once more shuffled toward the outer office. 

“Ah,” murmured Brief, leaning back in his 


Odd Ttpes 


365 

chair, tearing off the folder, and stretching out 
the newspaper with both hands, ‘‘after all, there 
is nothing so satisfactory as the doing of a good 
deed. It makes one feel so happy, and so — so 
angelic. H'm he muttered, as he glanced over 
the paper, “that fellow put the story in a conspic- 
uous enough place — right in the center of the first 
page. Now, then, let's see whether the tip I gave 
him did any good," and Brief proceeded to read. 
‘‘A — a — um — a — a — Ah — here we are. ‘As coun- 
sel in the case, Mr. Gloom has retained a rising, 
brilliant advocate from New York, who unless all 
signs fail is certain soon to scintillate in the first 
rank of his profession.' Good," commented 
Brief, “very good." Then resuming his perusal, 
he continued in a tone half aloud : “ Tt is not 
necessai*)^' at present to mention his name, as his 
person is already quite familiar to our readers. 1 
entered his cosy little offices yesterday and found 
counsel deeply immersed in a flood of legal docu- 
ments ; but, though pressed for time, he was good 
enough to grant me an interview. Peering ovei 

his golden-rimmed eyeglasses ' " Brief 

stopped in astonishment. Not believing his eyes, 
he read the phrase again, “‘Peering over his 

golden-rimmed eyeglasses ' " Brief went no 

further, but starting to his feet in a rage he 
hurled the paper down with such a bang that 
Clumsy, who was seated in the outer office, in- 
dulging in dreams of future affluence, almost 
tumbled off his chair. “The confounded idiot 1 
The dolt ! the asinine wretch !" exclaimed Brief, 
beginning to pace up and down. “By Jove, did 
one ever see such denseness ! I never wore eye- 


366 


Odd Types 


glasses in my life — never! Oh, some men seem 
to be born just to ruin their friends 1 If I had 
that ignoramus here, Fd choke him ! The idea of 
his trespassing on the imagination! He might 
have known that though a man may enter of 
right, if when on the land he exceeds his au- 
thority, all his acts become trespass ab initio. 
Curse the luck ! Til bet ten to one, people will 
think it is Lawyer Poorman he's describing. 
Never — never again, as long as I live, will I give 
another penny to reporters. They are the 
scourge — the pest of the age. As for conscience, 
they haven't any. All they ever strive to do is to 
bring disgrace and shame on every one. I never 
found them indulge in praise yet unless they were 
paid for it, and even then it seems so foreign to 
their nature that they make a botch of it. 
Qumsy !" 

The rough, imperative tone in which Brief 
called, at once brought Clumsy to his feet — a sec- 
ond time rudely awakened from his iridescent 
dreams. 

‘Wonder what he wants now?" muttered 
Clumsy, stumbling a number of times in his haste 
to respond to Brief's summons. “’Mebbe it means 
another raise." 

“Clumsy," said Brief, as soon as the lad ap- 
peared before him, his amiability of a few min- 
utes previous utterly gone, and a scowl darkening 
his brow, “I have changed my mind. I find upon 
reflection that the raise I promised you must be 
deferred." 

Clumsy looked at Brief in amazement, and 
though at the time that Brief had conferred it. 


Odd Types 


367 


Qumsy had rather spurned the gift, now that it 
was withdrawn, that paltry sum assumed in his 
mind gigantic proportions, and as a result 
Clumsy’s heart sank into his cracked shoes. 

‘‘I was wrong, Clumsy,” went on Brief bit- 
terly, ''when I told you a few minutes ago that it 
pays to be upright. I have just learned of some- 
thing that proves that it is not so. Be upright — 
yes — when you can’t help yourself. Otherwise 
you’ll starve. Doubt every one, and whenever 
you enlist in a cause, never concern yourself about 
its equity. In whatever class fate places you, 
espouse the prejudices of that class, right or 
wrong. If you are poor, or not a politician, raise 
your voice against bribery. If you are rich, 
launch your tirades against the insolence of the 
lower classes, and wherever you can, crush them. 
The only way to rise in this age is over the pros- 
trate ambitions of your fellows. The only way to 
gain success is by ruining your neighbors. Do 
you understand?” 

"Yes — yes, sir,” answered Clumsy, not compre- 
hending a word, and astonished to see Brief in 
such a passion. 

To do the lad justice, even in spite of Brief’s 
revocation of his promised gift, he felt just as 
much attached to him as before, and was sorry to 
see him so distracted. This attachment to an em- 
ployer was in fact a failing in Clumsy’s family. 
His father had had the same characteristic before 
him, and in consequence had worn his life away 
in poverty. Oh ! the gratitude of man, is it not a 
sublime spectacle to contemplate ! 

"Now, then,” resumed Brief, pointing to the 


3 ^ 


Odd Types 


offending newspaper, ''take that dirty sheet and 

tear it to '' He was evidently going to add 

"pieces,’’ when a timid knock at the door inter- 
rupted him. Clumsy hurried forward to respond, 
and on opening the door, disclosed to his master 
Dolly Dash, standing demurely on the threshold. 

"Ah, Miss Dash,” exclaimed Brief, as the 
thought flashed across his mind that he was in the 
presence of the future Mrs. Phil Gloom; "come 
in — come right in,” and with an amiable but at 
the same time dignified air, he waved his hand to 
her invitingly. Then, as Dolly entered timidly, he 
called to his able assistant: "Close the door, 
Clumsy, and let no one interrupt us till I ring. 
Now, then,” said Brief, with great politeness, as 
soon as the door was closed, "what can I do for 
you? Sit down, won’t you?” said he, seeing 
Dolly still remain standing with an air of inde- 
cision. Dolly obeyed and took a seat near his 
desk. 

"I hope, Mr. Brief,” began Dolly, falteringly, 
"that what I am going to ask will not offend you.” 

"Oh, speak right out. Miss Dash. Have no 
fear,” said Brief, condescendingly. 

"The matter about which I wish to speak to 
you,” said Dolly, encouraged by Brief’s affability, 
"concerns a dear friend of mine, Mr. Philip 
Gloom, and his wife.” 

"H’m !” commented Brief, puckering his brow 
and looking very wise. 

"Mr. Gloom has told me that he has given you 
instructions to begin the divorce suit at once.” 

"Aha!” thought Brief. "I was right. She is 
the future Mrs. Gloom.” Then, with redoubled 


Odd Types 


369 


amiableness, he added aloud : “My dear ^ Miss 
Dash, you may rely upon it, the suit will be 
pushed with the greatest vigor and despatch. Of 

course, I cannot promise you ’’ Here, noting 

Dolly’s expression of disappointment, he paused. 

“Oh, sir,” exclaimed Dolly, “is there no way to 
stop it ?” 

“Stop it!” ejaculated Brief, believing he had 
not heard aright. “Why should you wish to do 
that?” 

“Because,” replied Dolly, “I think Mr. Glooni 
has acted hastily, and if given time to reflect will 
surely change his mind.” 

“Would you want him to?” queried Brief, 
winking slyly. 

“Oh, indeed, I would,” replied Dolly, with an 
innocent air. “Nothing would please me better.” 

At this assertion. Brief looked at her sharply, 
as though trying to discover the motive of a wish, 
apparently so antagonistic to the purpose he be- 
lieved her to have in view. Dolly, however, bore 
his gaze unflinchingly. 

“Do you really mean to say. Miss Dash,” quer- 
ied Brief, speaking slowly, “do you really mean 
to say that you do not desire this divorce suit to 
go on?” 

“Yes, Mr. Brief. And if you have not yet be- 
gun it,” said Dolly, pleadingly, “I beg of you, 
defer it, sir.” 

“I hardly see how I can,” rejoined Brief, be- 
ginning to suspect that Dolly’s purpose was to try 
his loyalty. “Mr. Phil Gloom has given me strict 
orders to commence proceedings, and I make it a 


370 Odd Types 

point of honor always to carry out my clients’ 
instructions.” 

'‘Of course, I don’t know, sir,” rejoined Dolly, 
“but I suppose that in most cases that is the right 
way of doing. In this instance, however, where 
so much is at stake, where the happiness of two 
persons is concerned, would it not be best — T 
hope, you’ll not be angry at my suggestion — but 
would it not be best to act slowly?” Brief made 
no reply, but looked at his visitor in puzzled won- 
derment. “You, who have known both Mr. 
Gloom and his wife intimately,” continued Dolly, 
growing bolder as she proceeded, “are perhaps 
in a better position than I to judge of the affection 
that they formerly had for each other; but from 
what I have seen of Mr. Gloom, I suspect that he 
still loves his wife as dearly as ever. What is 
your idea, Mr. Brief ?” 

“Well,” replied Brief, not wishing to commit 
himself, 'T have hardly given that phase of the 
matter sufficient thought to express an opinion. 
To be sure,” he continued, diplomatically, “I 
should be most happy to learn that there is a 
chance of reconciliation. The fact that such an 
outcome would affect me financially would have 
absolutely no weight whatever. Both have been 
my dear friends, and I assure you. Miss Dash, I 
shall look into the possibility you suggest most 
carefully. However, as I said before, I must 
after all be guided by the wishes of my client. If 
Mr. Gloom insists I shall be forced to go on with 
the suit — ^no matter how reluctantly.” 

“Oh, sir,” asked Dolly, disappointed at the 
prospect Brief presented, “cannot you in some 


Odd Types 371 

way prevent the matter from coming up in court 
— at least, a week ?” 

‘'A week said Brief, smiling at Dolly’s ignor- 
ance of the law’s delay. ‘The case will probably 
not come up for trial for two months.” 

“As long as that ?” exclaimed Dolly, in delight. 

“Perhaps longer,” replied Brief. 

“Then,” said Dolly, rising, “I am sure it will 
never come up at all,’' and thanking Brief for his 
kindly explanations, she arose to take her depart- 
ure. With flattering obsequiousness — which dis- 
concerted Dolly not a little — Brief attended her to 
the door, and bowed her out. Then returning to 
his private office, and securely shutting himself in, 
he dropped into his chair and fell to thinking. 

What troubled Brief was that Dolly should 
wish to obstruct a process which would leave 
Phil Gloom free to wed her — a consummation 
which Brief, like many others, firmly believed to 
be the sole purpose of all Dolly’s acts. He, again 
like many others, could not conceive of a woman 
with Dolly’s past being capable of a noble or un- 
selfish thought. Once a devil, always a devil, and 
wholly a devil, was his doctrine — which, in fact, 
however, is no more true than once an angel, al- 
ways an angel, or wholly an angel. 

After long meditation Brief having started 
with a wrong premise, naturally arrived at a 
wrong conclusion. Not finding any other plaus- 
ible reason for Dolly’s conduct, he decided that its 
object was, as he had at first suspected, namely, 
to test his loyalty to Gloom. 

Having reached this decision, Brief began to 
ruminate upon what under the circumstances his 


Odd Types 


372 

course of action should be. Should he start the 
suit and press it on vigorously, or should he wait 
and delay it? His final decision was for delay. 
'Terhaps/’ said he to himself, ‘'they may become 
reconciled, and then Phil and his wife will be 
grateful to me ; and if they are not reconciled no 
harm can result since the issuance of process at 
this time will not bring on the trial any more 
quickly.’’ 

Having settled upon his mode of procedure. 
Brief turned his attention to other matters. 


Odd Types 


373 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A MEDLEY OF LAW. 

From the day that Phil rashly gave permission 
to Grab to make free with his bric-a-brac, the lat- 
ter entered upon so riotous a career of indulgence 
in his favorite hobby that all his previous ex- 
cesses in that direction seemed feeble in compari- 
son. His soul, thrilling with a delirium of 
ecstacy, such as only a collector of rarities can ex- 
perience, he now bent his steps many times a 
week in the direction of Phil Gloom’s house, and 
on each occasion spent many hours there. By a 
course of rapid progression these visits increased 
in frequency until at length hardly a day passed 
which did not find him feverishly delving among 
the numerous articles of virtu with which Gloom’s 
home was so generously stocked. At first Phil 
noted no effect from these visitations ; but after a 
month or so, happening to go through the house 
on a tour of inspection, the mantles, cabinets, 
tables and other places where such things had 
been heaped up in profusion presented so bare an 
appearance that even Phil, engrossed as he was 
in weightier matters, was struck by their empti- 
ness. Summoning the servants, he inquired of 
them the cause, and all with one accord agreed 
that the devastation was the work of Grab. 


374 


Odd Types 


Up to this time Grab’s opinion of Phil had been 
of the highest, and whenever the latter’s name 
was mentioned in his presence he always broke 
out into paeans of eulogy that, for extravagance 
of praise, have seldom been equalled. Phil’s gen- 
erosity, taste, discrimination and philanthropy 
were depicted by Grab in glowing colors, and if 
ever man had gained the gratitude of his fellow, 
Phil certainly seemed to have earned that of Grab. 
Now, gratitude is a thing of such rarity that even 
at the expense of several thousand dollars’ worth 
of knick-knacks it was cheap ; and had Phil been 
wise he would have been careful to preserve it. 
But just at this psychical point, when Grab’s ap- 
preciation was at the flood, Phil, angered by his 
losses, wrote Grab a letter, in which, after up- 
braiding him severely for having so grosslv 
abused his privileges, he gave notice that they 
were withdrawn, and intimated that it would be 
simply honesty in him to return the numerous 
articles he had, so to speak, ''borrowed.” 

Upon receipt of this communication, Grab, 
usually the mildest of men, got into a towering 
rage. Immediately his feelings toward Phil un- 
derwent a terrible change, and from an admiring 
friend he became, in equal degree, a bitter enemy. 
This, of course, was very natural ; for whose 
hatred is more implacable than that of a man upon 
whom you have showered the most favors ? Feel- 
ing his honor impugned. Grab wrote a testy re- 
ply, in which he stated, that as to coming to any 
harm through him, Phil need not have the slight- 
est fear, that on the morrow he would return 
every single thing Phil had loaned him, and that 


Odd Types 


37S 


the insinuation about sending them back was a 
gratuitous insult. All this read very beautifully, 
but, as often happens with man’s good resolu- 
tions, it came to naught. On the morrow, there- 
fore, his indignation having somewhat cooled, 
Grab promptly forgot all about his promises, and 
Phil’s property remained in his possession undis- 
turbed. 

But it was not the evaporation of anger alone 
that made Grab thus forgetful. It was worry, 
and the worry, singular to say, came also from a 
Gloom. This particular individual’s name was 
Willie. That little devil, or angel (according as 
you are stranger or parent), though his house 
was now a considerable distance away, continued 
to annoy Grab as persistently as ever. Every 
day his indefatigable little brain plotted, or put 
into execution, some new mischief. For a time 
Grab endured the boy’s pranks without remon- 
strance, but finally, when one day on his return 
home. Grab found part of his fence broken down, 
he made a resolve to keep quiet no longer. So, 
taking a broken slat with him to prove the truth 
of what he said, he took his way to Joe Gloom’s 
store. Fortunately he found Emma, Joe and 
Willie together. When Willie first espied Grab 
his guilty conscience smote him, and he gave a 
start; but the next moment, with a quickness 
that w^ould have put an adult to shame, he recov- 
ered himself, and with an air of innocence beside 
which that of a cherub would have looked down- 
right wicked, pretended to be totally unaware of 
his victim’s presence. 

Grab, however, undeceived, straightway ac- 


376 


Odd Types 


cused Willie of being the culprit, and appealed to 
Joe and Emma to do him the favor of keeping the 
boy away from his premises. It was not the first 
time, as they well knew, said Grab, that Willie 
had destroyed or damaged his property. He was 
a patient man, and was far from wishing to quar- 
rel with his fellow-townsmen; but positively the 
limit of his patience had been reached; and if 
Willie’s parents did not restrain him, he would 
resort without further notice to other means of 
protecting himself. The boy wasn’t satisfied, com- 
plained Grab, with tearing the slats out of place, 
but, as they could see from the specimen he had 
brought with him, had viciously broken each stick 
into several pieces. 

‘Willie,” said Emma, turning to the dear child, 
who, apparently oblivious of what was passing, 
was stretched at full length on the floor, his arms 
crooked at the elbows, his hands supporting his 
chin, and his gaze fixed steadily on a picture 
book that lay open before him, ‘Willie, did you 
do that?” ... 

“Do what?” asked Willie, raising his eyes in 
the most innocent manner in the world. 

“Break Mr. Grab’s fence?” said his mother. 

“No, ma,” replied Willie, quietly, and the next 
instant, without so much as the quiver of an eye- 
lid, he resumed his seemingly guileless inspection 
of the painted scenes before him. 

“There,” said Emma, immediately becoming in- 
censed at what appeared to be a false accusation, 
“you heard his answer, Mr. Grab !” 

“I did,” repled Grab, his choler stirred at Wil- 


Odd Types 377 

lie’s brazen falsehood, ‘"but that’s not the first 
time the boy has lied.” 

“What!” cried both Joe and Emma in one 
breath, “you call our boy a liar!” And before 
Grab could offer a word in defense, Emma, as- 
sisted at intervals by her husband, started in to 
berate the poor man with a vehemence that sim- 
ply overwhelmed him. Whom did he think he 
was talking to, she screeched. They were re- 
spectable people, she would have him understand. 
They didn’t, like he, go around stealing other 
people’s things under the pretense of borrowing 
them; nor did they, like he, try to stir up trouble 
for no reason at all. A person who stole would 
certainly lie, and when it came to a question as to 
whom to believe she would a thousand times 
rather trust to the word of an innocent child than 
to that of such a dirty, impudent sneak as Grab. 
“Get out of here,” screamed Emma, “and don’t 
you dare to show your face in here again.” 

“Yes,” growled Joe, advancing threateningly, 
“my wife is right. You’re nothing but a sneak. 
Get out of here !” 

Grab, being the smaller of the two, and believ- 
ing discretion the better part of valor, immedi- 
ately beat a hasty retreat. As he reached the 
door, however, he stopped, and shaking a 
clenched, little, yellow fist at Willie, who replied 
to the gesture by various grimaces of ridicule, he 
cried: “Just let me catch you around my place 
again, that’s all,” and having delivered this dire- 
ful, awful threat, rushed into the street. 

For a mornent Joe looked at Emma, and Emma 
looked at Joe, in speechless amazement, while 


Odd Types 


378 

Willie, foreseeing the possibility of a parental in- 
quisition, if he remained, stealthily withdrew. 

‘‘There,’' exclaimed Emma, finally recovering 
the use of her tongue, “didn’t I always tell you 
that that Grab was a dangerous man!” Joe 
growled assent. “He is not only vicious but cun- 
ning; and I tell you, Joe, if you don't do some- 
thing quickly to stop him, he’ll murder that poor, 
inoffensive child yet.” As though to emphasize 
the fact of Willie’s inoffensiveness, there came 
just then from the direction of the kitchen an 
awful shriek, which, deciphered, seemed to ex- 
press pain on the part of the hired girl at Willie’s 
pulling her hair. 

“Pooh !” rejoined Joe in guttural tones. “Grab 
hasn’t the strength to hurt a fly.” 

“He hasn’t, eh I” answered Emma. “Why, 
Joe, I’m surprised to hear you talk that way ; and 
that, too, just after actually seeing the man almost 
kill Willie before your very eyes.” 

“Pshaw, Em,” said Joe, “don’t get flighty. 
Grab didn’t touch the boy.” 

“Who says he did? But, just the same, he 
tried to get us to do it. Suppose you had believed 
Mr. Grab’s story, and had whipped Willie — 
might you not in your anger have hit him so hard 
that he’d never recover from it ?” 

“Oh, that’s only supposition.” 

“Exactly, and a very possible one, too,” re- 
marked Emma. “I can read character better than 
you, Joe, and, let me tell you, that was just Grab’s 
object in coming here. If it wasn’t, why did he 
bring that big stick with him ? Wasn’t it to have 
us use it on Willie? He thought we would be- 


Odd Types 


379 


lieve everything he chose to tell us, and then, 
when we had maimed the child for life, perhaps — 
he would have gone off laughing in his sleeve. 1 
repeat it, Joe, if you don’t take steps against that 
man, it won’t be long before the child will be in 
his grave.” 

This terrible prediction seemed to make Joe im- 
comfortable. 

“Well, but what can I do?” he asked. 

“Do,” replied his wife. “See a lawyer and be- 
gin suit for slander and assault.” 

“I don’t see how that’ll stop him,” remarked 
Joe, contracting his thick, beetling brows, so that 
two deep furrows appeared on either side of his 
nose. 

“If it don’t,” remarked Emma, “at least, it will 
come very near it. It certainly will frighten him, 
and a man that’s frightened seldom has the cour- 
age to commit murder.” 

Joe appeared to be completely convinced by this 
unanswerable logic, and at once declared, that on 
the very next day, if it was pleasant, he would go 
to New York and instruct Brief to bring action. 
Emma applauded this resolve heartily; but sug- 
gested that it would be best to take Willie and 
herself with him, in order to corroborate his state- 
ments. 

Just as husband and wife had arrived at this 
important decision, there arose in the air the pite- 
ous mewing of a cat. Instantly Emma started up, 
and gathering her skirts about her, rushed out to 
learn the cause. Mounting the stairs, she_ came 
suddenly upon her poor, persecuted child in the 
hallway, deeply engaged in the scientific expert- 


380 


Odd Types 


ment of pulling pussy’s tail to ascertain doubtless 
how loud the creature could cry — a proceeding 
that thus early evinced the inquiring bent of Wil- 
lie’s mind. Having persuaded the precious boy to 
desist for the nonce from further research into the 
physics of sound, she proceeded to put this bud- 
ding Huxley to bed. 

Meanwhile Grab, his pale face considerably 
flushed, turned his steps homeward. By the time 
he arrived there, he had come, after many mental, 
tortuous windings, to the same resolve as had the 
Glooms, and planned to go on the morrow and 
consult Brief. Thus, minds of an entirely differ- 
ent mould sometimes hit upon the same thought. 

Nor were these three the only prospective visit- 
ors at the shrine of the legal oracle. Phil Gloom, 
also, having ever since his last interview with 
Dolly been plagued with an uneasy idea that per- 
haps after all he was doing Miranda an injustice, 
had finally decided to call on Brief and instruct 
him to defer the divorce proceedings until fur- 
ther notice. On the following day, therefore, he, 
too, journeyed to New York. 

That day, which was in the early part of June, 
broke warm and clear. Brief, unaware of the 
multitude that was to descend upon him, had that 
morning taken a rather longer walk than usual, 
and did not arrive at his office until nearly hall 
past ten. Having gone through his mail, and 
finding nothing urgent noted in his dairy, he 
drew forth from his vest pocket a fine, robust 
Havana cigar, leaned back in his chair, and put- 
ting his feet on the desk, started in to enjoy a 
quiet, delicious smoke. The fragrant tobacco had 


Odd Types 


381 


just turned about half into dead ashes — ^how sym- 
bolical of life — when suddenly Brief was aroused 
from his reverie by the discordant voice of 
Clumsy announcing Mr. Phil Gloom. Immedi- 
ately Brief pulled his feet off the desk, and sat 
bolt upright. Hastily drawing his diary toward 
him, he opened it haphazard, and as Phil entered 
appeared to be deeply immersed in its contents. 

''Good morning, Brief,’' said Phil, gravely. "A 
fine morning.” 

"Ah — a — good morning — yes — fine,” replied 
Brief, pretending just to have become aware of 
Phil’s presence. "Aren’t you very early to-day?” 
remarked Brief, consulting his watch. "I hope,” 
he added solicitously, "nothing serious has hap- 
pened ?” 

"Nothing at all,” answered Phil. "It was such 
a fine morning that I thought that I would start 
early, and so escar he heat.” 

"Ah, I’m glad to ..ear that, Mr. Gloom. I sup- 
pose,” added Brief, "you have come to inquire 
whether the divorce proceedings have been be- 
gun ?” 

"Partly for that — yes.” 

"Well,” said Brief apologetically, "I had really 
been so very busy that I’d not been able to finish 
the papers until yesterday. But they’re all done 
now. If you wish, you can look them over, and 
then, since you are here, you can verify the com- 
plaint at once,” and Brief started up to go to his 
safe. 

'‘Wait a minute,” said Gloom, detaining him. 
Brief reseated himself and looked at his client in- 


382 Odd Types 

quiringly. ''No papers have 3'et been served, 
have there?’' 

"No,” replied Brief, "that could not be done 
until after you had sworn to your complaint.” 

"Very well,” returned Phil, with evident effort. 

"I — I — a Let the matter rest as it is until you 

hear from me.” 

Brief’s expression now changed from inquiry 
to amazement. Doubtful whether he had heard 
correctly, he said slowly: "Do I understand, Mr. 
Gloom, that you have changed your mind and do 
not intend to bring the suit ?” 

"I have not changed my mind yet,” returned 
Gloom, "but — I may.” Then, noticing Brief’s 
look of surprise, he added : "I see you are aston- 
ished. So am I, Brief — very much astonished. I 
thought that the vileness of this world had so 
hardened my heart that no human voice could 
ever move it again. But I find I am wrong. I am 
afflicted with an impressionable heart, and in this 
age such a possession is a curse. The man or 
woman of feeling in these mercenary times is 
looked upon with contempt, and is regarded as a 
fit subject for ridicule. Our pursuit of money has 
become so constant and intense that the hard 
quality of the metal seems to have communicated 
itself to our temperament. Among such beings. 
Brief, woe betide the heart that feels ! It may 
struggle and struggle, but in the end it will have 
accomplished nothing except its own destruction. 
I believe I see whither my weakness is leading 
me. But I have given my word. Brief, and since 
I am not yet man of the world enough to break it, 
I will do as I promised.” 


Odd Types 


383 

As Phil paused, Brief, whose mind had been en- 
gaged in some reflections on its own account, 
thought he saw a chance of profiting by Gloom's 
change of purpose, if change it turned out to be. 
So, with the air of a man who feared that his 
observation would be unwelcome, he remarked: 
“I trust, Mr. Gloom, you won’t take ill what I 
say, but really I am pleased to hear that you do 
not insist on hurrying matters. I believe upon in- 
vestigation you will find that Mrs. Gloom is not 
by any means as culpable as you consider her. If 
this should prove true, I assure you, no one will 
be more delighted than myself.” 

‘'No doubt,” commented Phil, dryly. 

“Oh, now,” remonstrated Brief, with some 
warmth, “you say that in a tone as though you 
did not ” 

At this moment the office door opened cau- 
tiously, and Clumsy gliding in, closed it quickly 
after him. Then advancing toward Brief, with a 
very mysterious air, and putting his mouth close 
to his ear, he whispered with awesome breath : 
“Mr. Felice.” Brief gave a start, and looked at 
Phil. 

“This is certainly strange,” he remarked, in a 
low tone of voice to Gloom. “Who do you sup- 
pose warns to see me ?” Phil shrugged his shoul- 
ders. “Mr. Felice,” whispered Brief. “I won- 
der what on earth he has come here for ?” 

“For nothing good; you can rest assured of 
that,” returned Phil. 

“I don’t suppose,” said Brief, “you care to meet 
him?” 

“Hardly,” answered Phil. “Not that I have 


384 Odd Types 

anything to fear, but I’m not in the mood Just 
now.” 

‘'And yet I don’t see how I can get you out,” 
remarked Brief, looking around him, very per- 
plexed. “Ah, I have it,” he exclaimed, as his 
glance fell on the door leading to the little inside 
room, “just the thing. Come, go in there. You 
will observe, the transom is open, and you can 
hear what he has to say. Who knows, perhaps it 
may prove of some benefit.” 

“I hardly relish the role of an eavesdropper,” 
said Phil, getting on his feet. 

“Oh, ril take all the responsibility on . that 
score on myself,” answered Brief, rising and 
leading Phil toward the other room. “All is fair, 
you know, in love and — law.” Then closing the 
door on Gloom, he turned to Clumsy: “Now, 
Clumsy, you may admit Mr. Felice.” 

After stubbing his toes several times, Qumsy 
succeeded in opening the door and ushering that 
gentleman in. 

“Good morning. Brief,” said Felice, advancing, 
with a smile on his bright, pleasant face that lit 
up to advantage his fair complexion and rosy 
cheeks. “Fine day, isn’t it?” 

“Very — very,” replied Brief, who by this time 
was again seated in his chair at the desk. 

“Must be rather hard to work at such a dry 
subject as law,” continued Felice, airily, “when 
one thinks of the lovely girls outside, eh ?” 

“Well,” returned Brief, with becoming judi- 
cial dignity, “I can hardly concur in your opinion 
that the law is dry. Very often, very often, in- 


Odd Types 385 

deed, we have cases that far outstrip any work 
of fiction for novelty or interest/’ 

'True,” replied Felice. "But that pleasure is 
only a mental one. Pshaw ! Give me the physi- 
cal, say I ! Something to touch, to grasp, to 
feeir 

'T know,” remarked Brief, smiling, "you al- 
ways were full of animal spirits.” 

"I admit it — I admit it,” answered Felice, rais- 
ing his head proudly, as though the possession of 
animal spirits was something worthy of boast. 
"Ah,” he continued, "I tell you. Brief, there is 
nothing in the world so enchanting as a pretty 
woman. And why should there be? For what 
purpose is her beauty, if not to be admired and 
enjoyed by man? I’m no hypocrite. I sail under 
no false colors. I come right out in the open. I 
love the sex — all of them — and they — love me. 
There’s only one drawback. They cost a fellow 
an awful lot of money — that is, some of them. 
And sometimes they get you into a peck of trou- 
ble — usually, too, where you have had the least 
enjoyment. To give you a recent instance, I need 
only mention Mrs. Phil Gloom. I tell you, man, I 
never saw a woman so proud or distant in all my 
life.” 

"To others, but not to you,” interposed Brief. 

"To me, the same as others.” 

"Oh, come,” said Brief, in an incredulous tone, 
for the purpose of drawing him out, "you can’t 
tell me that.” 

"It’s true,” asseverated Felice, earnestly. "She 
certainly is a puzzle to me. She is the first woman 
I ever met who didn’t care for flattery. That hus- 


386 Odd Types 

band of hers, between you and me, is a fool. 
He 

"'Hold on,” exclaimed Brief, fearing that in his 
anger Phil might suddenly present himself. “Re- 
member, you are speaking of my client, and I 
cannot permit ” 

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” interrupted Felice, 
smiling. “I see. Professional etiquette forbids a 
lawyer from listening to abuse of his client. How- 
ever, I’ll hold to my opinion just the same. But 
to come to the point. Pve just heard that you 
have been instructed to start divorce proceedings, 
is that true?” Brief nodded affirmatively. “Well, 
don’t do it,” said Felice. 

’’Don’t do it !” repeated Brief. “Why — not ?” 

“Because you’ll fail,” replied Felice. “Phil 
Gloom hasn’t a particle of evidence to stand on.” 

“How about your letter ?” queried Brief. 

“Pshaw!” ejaculated Felice, with a contemptu- 
ous wave of the hand, “that can be explained 
easily.” ^ 

“Perhaps, from your point of view,” returned 
Brief, “but my client thinks differently.” 

“Well, you must tell him he is wrong.” 

“Willingly,’^ answered Brief, adding, after a 
pause, “but only after I am convinced myself.” 

“That won’t be difficult,” rejoined Felice. “You 
know me well enough to know that if I had any 
pleasure I would have been willing to pay for it. 
But Phil Gloom’s wife is an iced Venus, if ever 
there was one. I tried to put some sense into her 
head, but she wouldn’t hear of it. I told her, her 
virtue wouldn’t be appreciated. And I was right. 
You see what she gets for being true to her hus- 


Odd Types 387 

band. He throws her away, and she has the 
name without the game."" 

“Well, why should you care ?"" asked Brief, eye- 
ing him narrowly. 

“I wouldn’t, if it weren’t for Phil Gloom. He’s 
crazy enough to do anything, and before you 
know it he may take a notion to sue me for aliena- 
tion of affections.” 

“Ah, I see,” remarked Brief. “That is where 
the shoe pinches.” 

“Exactl replied Felice. “I wouldn’t mind 
if I had had some benefit, but to be annoyed and 
troubled and put to expense for absolutely noth- 
in? a bit against the grain. Now, to come 
to the point — a — a — how much do you expect to 
make out of this suit ?” 

'Well,” exclaimed Brief, after a moment of 
amazed silence, “that is rather a personal ques- 
tion.” 

“I mean it to be,” replied Felice, smiling. “You 
know. Brief, I’m a man of the world. I know, as 
well as you, that when it comes to a matter of 
dollars and cents — honor and friendship and all 
that rubbish go for nothing. Now, if Phil fails 
in his suit, as no doubt he will and ought to, and 
when he finds that his wife is innocent, like as 
not the two will become reconciled. Then they’ll 
talk things over. Finding me the innocent instru- 
ment of their differences, they may feel inclined 
to take revenge. And that is what I want to put 
out of their power.” 

“How?” queried Brief. 

“By buying from you my letter. Now, don’t 


388 


Odd Types 


be bashful. Name your price, and whatever it is 
ril pay it.'’ 

''What !" exclaimed Brief, starting up in 
feigned indignation, and speaking very loudly so 
that Phil Gloom would be sure to hear him, "you 
wish to bribe me to betray my client ! Why, sir, 
you have mistaken your man. Not all the money 
in the world could induce me to prove false to the 
interests of those who trust in me. I cannot un- 
derstand," went on Brief, working himself up 
into a fine, virtuous rage, "I really cannot con- 
ceive what act on my part could possibly have 
emboldened you to make me such a proposition. 

It is almost — why — I — I " sputtered Brief, in 

seeming rage. 

"Ha! ha!" laughed Felice, "that'll do. Brief. I 
was only joking. Wanted to try you, old man, 
that was all." 

"Well," remarked Brief, cooling down, "I don’t 
relish any such jokes very " 

"Oh, forget it," said Felice. "Here, have an- 
other cigar," and he pushed into Brief's not very 
reluctant fingers one of a rare, imported brand. 

What simple children we are ! How little it 
takes to arouse our anger or gain our good will ! 
How many quarrels and dissensions has tobacco 
alone settled peaceably! How much bloodshed 
and sacrifice of life has it averted ! If we would 
copy the Indian's pipe of peace, perhaps we, who 
consider ourselves so highly civilized, would pre- 
vent more wars than ever were dreamt of in the 
diplomacy of our most astute statesmen. People 
may say what they will, tobacco, like a drop of 


Odd Types 


389 


the milk of human kindness, would make the 
whole world kin. But to return to the practical. 

Just at the moment that Felice proffered the 
cigar, Clumsy, opening the door and inserting his 
tawny head, announced “Mr. and Mrs. Joseph 
Gloom.” 

“Ah,” exclaimed Felice, rising, “most oppor- 
tune. Mrs. Joe Gloom was her sister-in-law’s 
chief confidante, and she’ll corroborate what I’ve 
told you in every particular,” and going into the 
outer office, Felice accosted the new arrivals cor- 
dially. As luck would have it, the door between 
Brief’s office and the outer one partially swung 
to. Brief started up to pull it back, when the other 
door opened, and Phil Gloom’s melancholy coun- 
tenance, now longer than ever, appeared at the 
aperture. 

“Don’t go on with the suit. Brief,” he groaned. 
“I feel convinced that Felice is telling the truth. 
It is very humiliating to make such a confession, 
but I’ll be fair and admit it. My wife is inno- 
cent, Brief, and just to think how I have tortured 
her !” Here, in his excitement, forgetting his sit- 
uation, Gloom stepped half way into the room. 
“Ah, Brief, I thought I knew human nature, but 
it seems not ; and now, in my folly — ^in my mad 
folly— I ” 

“Quick — quick — get in,” interrupted Brief, un- 
ceremoniously, as he heard Felice and the others 
approaching. Phil stopped short, and ^ving a 
frightened glance around, darted back with more 
speed than dignity. He was just in time ; for the 
next moment Joe Gloom, with his apoplectic-col- 
ored face, and Emma, with her large, glowing 


390 


Odd Types 


eyes and pale complexion, preceded by Felice, en- 
tered the room. As they did so, the door re- 
mained ajar, and through it Brief caught a 
glimpse of little Willie actively engaged in tanta- 
lizing Clumsy. 

“As I told you, old man,” said Felice, “Mrs. 
Gloom here will corroborate everything I’ve 
said.” 

“Indeed !” exclaimed Brief, coldly. Then, 
turning to Emma, he added, in a cross-examining 
manner, 'T)o I understand, madam, that you 
maintain Mrs. Phil Gloom’s innocence?” 

“I most certainly do,” replied Emma, compress- 
ing her lips. 

“What proof have you?” 

“Why, her own words, and what she has told 
me from time to time.” 

“Did you know anything of the letter which 
Mr. Felice wrote her?” 

“I did — right after she received it, too.” 

“Did you know,” queried Brief, “that she con- 
cealed this letter from her husband ?” 

“Why, of course, I did. Wasn’t I the one that 
advised her to do it?” 

“Oh,” commented Brief, somewhat sarcasti- 
cally, “you were the one that gave her this good 
advice. Did she consult you all the way through 
this matter ?” 

“Yes, she did. Only she made a mistake in not 
burning the letter as I told her to do. But you 
know, Mr. Brief, between us here, she is sudi a 
simpleton one would think she had been bom 
only yesterday/^ 


Odd Types 


391 

“H’m!” coughed Brief, dryly. 'Ts she still at 
your house ?” 

‘‘Oh, yes. But if sometliing isn’t done pretty 
soon, Tm afraid she’ll leave.” 

“Leave ? Where will she go ?” 

“Heaven only knows,” answered Emma, with 
a sanctimonious expression of countenance. “Her 
money has all given out, and though Joe and I 
keep urging her not to mind it — I’m sure we’d 
gladly have her stay — she is that proud she won’t 
hear of it. It’s a shame the way Phil has treate.l 
the poor thing. I’ve told her often to start suit 
against him and compel him to support her. But 
you might as well talk to a stone wall. Isn’t that 
so, Joe?” 

“Yes,” growled Joe. “I never saw such a fool 
of a woman.”' 

“The moment we suggest anything like that,” 
resumed Emma, “she begins to cry, and talks 
about Phil’s goodness and nobleness and such 
nonsense. Why, it’s enough to put a body out of 
patience with her.” 

As Emma concluded, there came a sound from 
the room where Phil was, very like a moan. 

“Dear me, what’s that !” exclaimed Emma, ner- 
vously, looking around. 

“Oh, nothing — nothing at all,” remarked Brief, 
hastily. “It’s only the wind.” And to change 
the subject, he added : “I don’t suppose you came 
to New York expressly to tell me these things, did 
you ?” 

“Not at all,” replied Emma. “We’re not so 
rich,” she continued, in that sharp, tenuous voice 
of hers, “that we can travel about on other peo- 


39^ Odd Types 

pie’s business. What we want to see you about 
is ” 

'Tardon me, Mrs. Gloom,” interrupted Felice, 
in the suave, polite way, so characteristic of him, 
“I do not wish to intrude in your affairs, and so, 
I think, ril say good-bye.” 

''Oh, it’s not so private as all that,” returned 
Emma. "In fact, we’d much prefer if you’d stay. 
Wouldn’t we, Joe?” 

"Certainly,” acquiesced Joe, in an intonation so 
deep that it seemed to come up from under the 
floor. 

"Very well, then,” said Felice, "I’ll remain. I 
am only too happy, as you know, to be of service 
to either of you,” and pulling out a cigar, he lit it. 
"Don’t mind me,” he added, dropping into a 
chair with inimitable grace, "go right on, Mrs. 
Gloom.” 

"Well,” resumed Emma, addressing Brief, "as 
I was going to say, we have come to see you about 
Mr. Grab. Lately, that man has worried the life 
out of us, and we certainly can’t bear it any 
longer. Besides, he has made some awful threats 
against Willie, and we live in constant dread lest 
he should carry them out. What that poor, inno- 
cent child ” (Here Willie, upsetting the chair 

on which Clumsy was about to seat himself, 
caused the latter to come down on the floor with 
a crash.) "Don’t be so wild, darling,” called his 
mother. "What that poor, innocent child,” re- 
sumed Emma, "could possibly have done to be so 
persecuted I can’t in the least imagine. To show 
you how vicious that Mr. Grab is ” 

'*Never mind the details just now,” interrupted 


Odd Types 


393 


Brief, seeing that Emma, if not stopped at once, 
would be an hour in the telling, ‘‘come right to 
the issue. What is it you want me to do?’’ 

“What is it we want you to do?” repeated 
Emma. “Why, we want you to have Mr. Grab 
arrested.” 

“Arrested !” exclaimed Brief, in surprise. 
“For what?” 

“For hitting our child, of course.” 

“Was the boy hurt?” asked Brief. 

“Hurt?” reiterated Emma. “Well, he might 
have been.” 

“Never mind what he might have been. Was 
he?” 

“No — o — o,” answered Emma, with seeming 
reluctance. “But if Mr. Grab had struck him ” 

“Why,” interrupted Brief, “do you mean to 
say he didn’t strike him ?” 

“Not exactly, no,” returned Emma, becoming 
confused. Brief shrugged his shoulders. “But 
he would have, if my husband and I hadn’t been 
there to prevent him.” 

“Then, as I understand it, what Mr. Grab did 
was to make a threat,” said Brief smiling. Emma 
nodded. “And on that you want to have him 
arrested ?” 

“Exactly,” interposed Emma, with eagerness. 
“We want him arrested for atrocious assault and 
battery.” 

“Yes,” interjected Joe, who had been listening 
to his wife with stolid earnestness, “we want him 
arrested for atrocious assault and battery,” and 
he shook his head with such vigor that his big, 
red face turned almost a dark scarlet. 


304 


Odd Types 


"'I presume,” said Brief, slowly, fearing by too 
blunt an assertion to arouse Emma’s touchy tem- 
per, '‘you want my honest opinion in the matter, 
do you not?” 

‘‘Certainly,” answered Emma. 

“Well,” said Brief, in as soothing and concilia- 
tory a tone as he could command, “I don’t think 
that, under the circumstances — understand, un- 
der the circumstances, as you have stated them — 
I don’t think that anything can be done.” 

If Brief thought that his circumlocution would 
help him any, he quickly found out his mistake. 
For instantly Emma was up in arms. 

“What,” she exclaimed, “do you mean to say 
that we can’t do anything to stop that man’s per- 
secution of my poor, inoffensive child! Whv, 
Mr. Brief, I’m ” 

At this juncture there came from Clumsy in the 
outer office such a wail of pain that all turned in 
his direction. 

“Oh, oh !” cried Clumsy, limping to the door. 
“Say, missus, will you stop your little boy from 
kicking me?” 

“Willie,” called Emma, in mild reprimand, 
“you mustn’t do that.” Then, addressing 
Clumsy, she added: “Don’t mind him. He 
doesn’t mean to hurt you. He’s only playing.” 

“Well,” grumbled Clumsy, “I don’t like such 


“Look here, young man,” interrupted Emma, 
sharply, “be careful how you talk to me !” 

“Clumsy,” commanded Brief, in a stern tone, 
though in his heart he felt sorry for the lad, “go 
and do your work.” 


Odd Types 


395 


muttered Clumsy, limping back to his 
chair, ‘‘I’ll whack that kid’s head off if he comes 
near me again.” 

“No, Mrs. Gloom,” said Brief, in the hope of 
deflecting Emma from her evident intention of 
continuing her argument with Qumsy, “under 
the circumstances, in my opinion, you have no 
case.” 

“Indeed,” rejoined Emma, twisting in her 
chair, and looking at Brief in a manner that 
augured a tempest. 

“Yes,” answered Brief, preparing himself for 
the onslaught, “you have no case.” 

“Well,” remarked Emma, biting her lips and 
rising, “all I have to say, Mr. Brief, is that we’re 
not such fools as we look. If you think we can’t 
see through your schemes, you’re mistaken.” 

“My dear Mrs. Gloom,” remonstrated Brief. 

“Oh, you needn’t ‘dear’ me, Mr. Brief,” inter- 
rupted Emma, her voice becoming shriller and her 
utterance more rapid, “it takes a smarter man 
than you to blind us. We understand you per- 
fectly. You don’t want to take the case, that’s 
all, and you think that by telling us we have none 
we won’t go anywhere else and find out. But 
we will, just the same. You mustn’t think you’re 
the only lawyer in the city. There are many 
others, just as good as you, and better, too.” 

“I have no doubt of it,” replied Brief, with be- 
coming modesty. 

“Yes, and more honest,” added Emma. 

“Madam!” exclaimed Brief, indignantly, start- 
ing up. 


Odd Types 


39^ 

‘'That's right," sneered Emma, ^^come and hit 
me, why don’t you? Joe !" 

“Yes," cried that individual, advancing men- 
acingly, “just hit her if you dare!" 

“I hadn’t the least intention of doing so," re- 
plied Brief in disgust, “I " 

“You did," retorted Emma. 

“I wish you’d keep quiet," thundered Brief, 
now thoroughly angry. 

“I won’t keep quiet," snapped Emma, “not for 
you nor no one else. You and Phil Gloom are a 
well-matched pair — you are." 

“Yes," answered Brief, with mocking polite- 
ness, “you are right there. We are both gentle- 
men." 

“He I he !" laughed Emma, derisively, “did you 
hear that, Joe? Did you hear that, Mr. Felice?" 

Joe grunted, and Felice, who had also risen, 
smiled. 

“Phil Gloom, a gentleman 1" continued Emma, 
with sneering sarcasm. “You can tell that to 
people who don’t know him, but not to us. Of 
course, he doesn’t pay us to lie. That makes a 
difference. Anyhow, we wouldn’t take his dirty 
money, even if he offered it. He’s nothing but a 
selfish beast." 

“Much as I dislike to criticise any one," put in 
Felice, mildly, “I must agree with you there, Mrs. 
Gloom." 

“Yes," growled Joe, “he hasn’t any more feel- 
ing than a stone." 

“He’s a heartless wretch f’ continued Emma, 

“To express it less harshly," remarked Felice, 
with a bland smile, “he’s a hypocrite." 


Odd Types 


397 


he, indeed I” exclaimed the voice of Phil, as 
he pushed open the door, and suddenly appeared 
before their astonished eyes. “My dear friends,'’ 
he added, bowing with elaborate ceremonious - 
ness, “it seems that, like Sir Peter Teazle, I have 
stepped into a ‘School for Scandal !’ ” 

“Oh,” exclaimed Emma, who recovered from 
her surprise more quickly than the others, “so 
you’ve heard everything, have you? Well, all I 
have to say is, that persons who hide behind doors 
to overhear other people’s business are too low to 
associate with. Come, Joe !” 

At the word of command, Joe, like a faithful 
mastiff, followed his wife doggedly into the outer 
office, while Felice, trying to carry off his feeling 
of uneasiness airily, took long, leisurely puffs at 
his cigar, and walked slowly toward the door. 
Phil looked at Brief, and Brief at Phil, and each 
seemed to read the other’s thoughts. 

“Come, Willie,” said Emma, grasping the child 
by the arm, just as he was on the point of drop- 
ping a handful of pins down the back of the un- 
suspecting Clumsy, “let us get out of here right 
away.” 

“I won’t,” answered that little angel, resisting. 

“But you must, dear. Surely, you don’t want 
to stay m this nasty old office,” and she tried to 
drag him off. 

As Willie felt himself pulled backward, he shot 
out his foot, and struck Clumsy a hard blow on 
the leg. Clumsy jumped up. 

“Yeh, yeh, yeh!” cried Willie, exultantly, “I 
kicked you last.” 


39S Odd Types 

Qumsy, exasperated, lifted his hand as though 
to hit him. 

'‘Don’t you dare,” screeched Emma, bristling 
up instantly, "don’t you dare to strike that child.” 
She was about to appeal to her husband for aid, 
when the door leading to the hall suddenly burst 
open, and Mrs. Shoddy, under full pressure, came 
steaming in, followed by the devoted Demos. 
Both appeared laboring under intense excitement. 

"Where is she?” cried Mrs. Shoddy. "Where 
is that ungrateful girl ?” 

"Answer, sir!” exclaimed Demos, addressing 
himself to Brief. "Where is she ?” 

"Who?” asked Brief in wonderment. 

"You know very well who,” returned Demos, 
puffing with indignation. "And if you don’t pro- 
duce her at once, sir — at orfce — by our glorious 
flag. I’ll have you put in jail for abduction — ^you 
hear — for abduction.” 

"It seems to me,” replied Brief, with a sneer, 
"that you are issuing execution before you have a 
judgment. If you refer to Miss Minerva Shoddy, 
I know nothing of her whereabouts.” 

"Oh, Mr. Brief,” exclaimed Mrs. Shoddy, 
whose hands by this time were being sympa- 
thetically stroked by Emma, "how can you tell 
such a — such a ” 

"Falsehood,” suggested Demos, fuming. 

As Brief was about to protest his veracity, the 
proof of it was furnished by the entrance from the 
hall of Minerva herself. 

"Oh, mamma,” she exclaimed, "there you are !” 
and she advanced toward her. 

'Don’t come near me, don’t come near me,” 


Odd Types 


399 


cried Mrs. Shoddy in deep indignation. ^TTie 
idea of putting me in such a stew ! Where have 
you been? 

‘‘Nowhere/' replied Minerva. “I lost Mr. 
Demos and you in the crowd, and have been look- 
ing for you ever since." 

“I don't believe it," retorted her mother. “You 
lost us on purpose so as to come here and spend 
your time with that booby there," and she pointed 
to Brief. 

“Madam," exclaimed Brief, intensely mortified 
by the epithet. 

“Don't speak to me, you monster," retorted 
Mrs. Shoddy. “You ought to be ashamed of 
yourself, trying to lead astray a young girl like 
that." 

“Oh, come, Mrs. Shoddy, now, that's unjust," 
interposed Phil. “I can vouch " 

“You " interrupted Mrs. Shoddy in deep 

scorn — “you — just you keep still, that's all." 

“Come here, my girl," said Phil, motioning to 
Minerva, who looked distressed. 

“Nervy!" cried Mrs. Shoddy, wamingly.' 
“Don't you dare — don't you dare. You come 
right here by me. I'll take care of you after this. 
Yes, indeed. You'll not run away from me in a 
hurry again." 

“But, mamma " began Minerva in protest. 

“Not a word — not a word. I know — I know 
what I am talking about. You and the lawyer 

thought to put me in the soup, but " Here 

the outer door, toward which Mrs. Shoddy's back 
was turned, was swung open again, and striking 
Mrs. Shoddy caused her to face about. 


Odd Types 


400 

'^Gracious me/’ she exclaimed in alarm, on be- 
holding the intruder, "‘it’s Mr. Grab. Quick, Mr. 
Demos, quick — let us get out of here at once/’ 
and accompanied by that gentleman, and drag- 
ging Minerva after her, she hurried into the hall. 

The moment the others saw who it was, they, 
too, seemed to become seized with* a frenzy of 
fright, and instinctively put their hands to those 
parts of their persons which were adorned with 
jewelry. 

'‘Come, Willie, come,” screeched Emma, pull- 
ing him after her with might and main ; and fol- 
lowed by Joe, she also rushed away. Grab looked 
at these actions with utter consternation. 

"Well, well!” he remarked, addressing Phil 
Gloom, "what’s all this excitement about?” 

Instead of answering him, the latter, with his 
hand pressed over his watch chain, made a quick 
stride to the door, and having put that barrier be- 
tween them, heaved a deep sigh of relief. Mean- 
while, Brief began running back and forth like a 
madman. 

"My hat, Qumsy,” he shouted, "my hat. Quick 
— quick. Oh !” he muttered, "if I can only get 
him out before he spies anything.” 

"Mr. Brief,” began Grab, timidly, following 
the latter as he, for at least the tenth time, rushed 
back into his private office, "I have come to see 


"I am very sorry,” interrupted Brief, dashing 
desperately into the outer office again, and almost 
upsetting Grab in his haste, "I am very sorry, but 
I haven’t a moment to spare. If you have any- 
thing to say,” he added, as Grab, with that soft, 


Odd Types 


401 


velvety tread of his came towards him again, '‘if 
you have anything to say, you will have to go 
along and tell me on the way. Tm in an awful 
hurry — awful hurry,'’ continued Brief, jabbing on 
his hat, and jamming a lot of legal looking docu- 
ments into his pocket, "I can't stop to listen." 

“Oh, well," responded Grab, quietly, “I don't 
want to interfere with your engagements. I'll 
wait till you return." 

“You'll what?" cried Brief, standing stockstill. 

“Wait till you return," said Grab, gently. 

“Wait till I return!" roared Brief. “Not a bit 
of it — not a bit of it." And seizing the astounded 
Grab by the collar of his coat, he began to drag 
him toward the door. 

“Why — Mr. Brief," protested Grab, “I — I — I 

9f 

“I tell you, sir," said Brief, relentlessly, “you 
can't stay here. It's impossible. I'm going to 
close up the office. Clumsy, lock up I" 

“But it's only half past three," cried Clumsy, 
twisting almost into a double knot in surprise. 

“Do as I tell you !" thundered Brief, and tight- 
ening his grip on Grab, he hauled that bewildered 
individual out into the hall with him. 

“Dear me!" commented Grab, as Brief half 
dragged, half pushed him along, “the whole pack 
of 'em has gone mad." 


402 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

RECONCILED. 

While these things were happening In New 
York, on that very day, late in the afternoon, 
Dolly, having cleared the way for a meeting be- 
tween Phil and Miranda, bent her footsteps to- 
ward Joe Gloom’s house, with the determination, 
if possible, of inducing Miranda to accompany her 
back to her husband’s home. 

On passing through the store, Dolly was in- 
formed by Sandy, the clerk — business had been 
so bad that Joe had been forced to hire some one 
to help him bear the burden — that his employer, 
with wife and boy, were in New York, and that 
no one was within except Mrs. Phil Gloom and 
the servant. Telling the clerk, who politely 
offered to show her the way, that she needed no 
assistance and could find it for herself, Dolly 
with a beating heart tripped lightly up the stairs. 

As she entered the sitting room, the first object 
she saw was a figure standing at the window, with 
an air of dejection so deep that it went straight 
to her heart. Instinctively, she divined that it 
was Mrs. Phil Gloom. 

Advancing to the center of the room, Dolly 
Stood still, intending to wait patiently until 


Odd Types 


403 


Miranda should turn around. For a few mo- 
ments, however, the latter continued to gaze ab- 
stractedly at the scenes outside ; then, suddenly 
experiencing a feeling, such as we all at times 
have felt, that some one was watching her, she 
faced about, and her glance fell on Dolly. At 
sight of the unexpected intruder, Miranda gave a 
start, and then recognizing her visitor, her face 
flushed and she drew herself up haughtily. 

‘Ts there any one you wish to see here?’' she 
asked, in a cold, hard tone. 

^^Yes, Mrs. Gloom,” said Dolly, hesitatingly, “I 
wish to see you ; and if — if you will allow me, I 
think I can — I^m sure I’ll be only too happy — to 
help you out of your terrible trouble. I know,” 
added Dolly, ''you have been very much wronged, 
and I feel very — very sorry for you.” 

‘T do not know as I want your sympathy,” re- 
plied Miranda, with a cutting accent, "nor do I 
need your assistance. As for aiding me, such an 
offer is absolute mockery. Were it not for you 1 
would not be in the position I am to-day. I can- 
not conceive,” continued Miranda, "your pur- 
pose in coming here ; but if it was to feast your 
eyes on my unhappiness, then you are even worse 
than I thought you.” 

"Oh, Mrs. fGloom,” exclaimed Dolly, with 
quivering lips, "you do not know what you are 
saying. You do not know how you misjudge 
me ! I have never harmed you — never.” 

^ "Perhaps not,” replied Miranda, with a dry, 
bitter smile, "perhaps not, from your point of 
view. To steal a husband’s affections from his 
wife may not 


404 


Odd Types 


'"Oh, Mrs. Gloom,’’ interrupted Dolly In horror, 
going towards her, but stopping short as Miranda 
waved her away, "surely, you cannot believe any- 
thing like that of me !” 

"Indeed!” returned Miranda, with subtle sar- 
casm, lowering her eyelids in deep disdain. "Are 
you then really so pure — so far above suspicion? 
Do you think others have as short a memory as 
you ? Have you actually forgotten the past ?” 

"Forgotten the past !” moaned Dolly, shrinking 
back. "No, Mrs. Gloom, no, indeed ! Even if I 
wished to,” she added sadly, "there is always 
somebody ready to remind me of it. I know only 
too well that I must carry my disgrace to the 
grave — that people will always despise me ; but if 
I tell you that by letting me help you to become 
happy, my lot will seem less hard to bear, will you 
refuse? Won’t you even let me try?” 

"I !” exclaimed Miranda in surprise, her lips 
curling with scorn. "What have I to do with 
your plans ?” 

"Everything,” replied Dolly. "Your husband 

” Miranda made a gesture of impatience. "I 

know,” said Dolly apologetically, "I know he has 
done you wrong, but he is very sorry for it, Mrs. 
Gloom. He still loves you, as much as ever, and 
if you will only meet him half way, I am sure he 
will tell you so.” 

' Miranda shook her head. 

"No,” said she, "that is impossible. I once 
humbled myself, and was spurned for my pains. 
I will not risk a second humiliation. If he really 
has anything to say to me he must come himself 
and not send another.” 


Odd Types 


405 


*‘Send another/' repeated Dolly. ^'Why, Mrs. 
Gloom, your husband not only did not send me, 
but he hasn't the rernotest idea that I’ve come 
here.” 

''No?” queried Miranda, suspiciously. 

"You seem to doubt that,” said Dolly, hurt. 
Miranda made no reply. "If that is so, you will 
at least be just enough to let me pro.ve the truth of 
what I say?” 

"That was all that I asked once, and it was de- 
nied me,” answered Miranda. "However, I will 
not refuse it to another, especially since I believe 
you will fail.” 

"Not if you assist me,” said Dolly. 

"I? How?” 

"By joining me in a short walk.” Miranda 
seemed to hesitate. "You need not fear,” added 
Dolly, hastily, in a somewhat bitter tone. "No 
one will see us together. It is quite dark, now, 
and the streets are deserted.” 

"But where,” asked Miranda, "are we to go?” 

"Back to your husband’s — to your — home,” re- 
plied Dolly. 

Miranda looked startled, and, much as she 
yearned to consent, was on the point of declining, 
when Dolly added: "It's the only way, Mrs. 
Gloom, to prove that I've told the truth.” 

Miranda reconsidered a moment, and then with 
a sigh said : "Very well.” 

As she uttered these words, Dolly's face bright- 
ened wonderfully. "Thank you, Mrs. Gloom,” 
she exclaimed, "thank you a thousand times for 
your kindness. At last I will be able to show you 
that I am not so low a creature as you think me.” 


4o6 


Odd Types 


A few minutes afterward, Miranda and Dolly 
were wending their way up the country road to 
Miranda’s former home. As they approached the 
house, Dolly requested Miranda to stand within 
the shadow of a tree some ten feet off, while she 
went forward to prepare the way for bringing her 
into the house unobserved Though Miranda did 
not relish such proceedings and demurred to them 
several times, Dolly begged her so hard to 
acquiesce that she had not the heart to refuse. In 
response to Dolly’s ring, the coachman who, alone 
of the servants, happened to be at home, appeared. 

''Is Mr. Gloom in ?” asked Dolly. 

"No,” answered the coachman, with a grin that 
expressed volumes, "but I expect him in about 
ten minutes. He’s been to New York all day. 
Won’t you go up in the library and wait for him?” 
he added, with a wink that was offensively fa- 
miliar. Dolly pretended not to notice it. 

"If you don’t mind,” said she, "I’ll wait here a 
little while.” 

"Just as you like. When you want to step up,” 
he added, "you don’t need me. You know the 
way,” and with a coarse laugh, and glancing back 
several times, he walked, chuckling, toward the 
rear of the hall, and disappeared down the back- 
stairs. 

As soon as he was gone, Dolly ran to Miranda, 
and whispered her to follow. With swift, soft 
tread, Miranda, preceded by Dolly, approached 
the entrance and slipped inside. As she stood 
once more within the familiar walls, such a rush 
of memories swept over her that for a moment 
she was almost overcome ; but sommoning all her 


Odd Types 


407 

strength, she managed to control her surging 
thoughts, and mounted the stairs, still under the 
lead of Dolly. Upon reaching the upper hallway, 
however, her emotion became so great that she 
could no longer restrain it, and yielding to the 
impulse, at a time when Dolly’s head was not 
turned, she pressed a fervent kiss upon the wall. 
She was like an exile who, after many years of 
absence, again finds himself in his native land. 
It is strange but true, that people often become as 
much attached to inanimate objects as to their 
own species. The surroundings seemed to 
Miranda to exhale such a warm and loving wel- 
come that her resolutions to be hard and cold and 
uncompromising began rapidly melting away. At 
Dolly’s suggestion, they entered the library and 
seated themselves. They had not sat there five 
minutes when the lower door was heard to open 
and close, and the familiar step of Phil Gloom 
sounded on the stairs. Immediately Dolly, in 
spite of Miranda’s protests, almost forced her into 
the little room adjoining the library — the very 
room which Dolly had occupied on that terrible 
evening of separation. Dolly had hardly swung 
the door to and resumed her seat, when Phil en- 
tered. He seemed considerably preoccupied, and 
when his glance fell on Dolly he gave a start. 

“Dolly!” he exclaimed, in a sad but kindly 
tone, “you here? Isn’t this rather an unusual 
time for you to call on me ?” 

“Yes, Mr. Gloom, it is,” answered Dolly, hardly 
able to repress her excitement ; “but it is also an 
unusual occurrence that has brought me.” 

“Tell me about it,” said Phil, seating himself 


4o8 


Odd Types 


opposite her, and weariedly passing his hand 
over his forehead. 

'T hardly know how to begin/’ said Dolly. ‘T 
suppose it will be best to go back to the night 
Mrs. Gloom and you parted.” Dolly paused, ex- 
pecting from Phil some exclamation of petulance, 
but to her surprise none came. So she went on : 
'‘Do you know what I have heard, Mr. Gloom?” 

"What?” asked Phil, in a sort of half-dreamy 
way. 

"Why, people say, Mr. Gloom, that you are 
actuated in your kindness to me — and, oh, sir, 1 
can never repay you for what you have done, 
never — they say you are kind to me because you 
have in view a dishonorable motive. That our 
friendship is criminal, and that it is I who have 
taken your affection away from your wife. Is 
that true ?” 

Phil glanced at Dolly and smiled at her vehem- 
ence. 

"Give me your answer, Mr. Gloom,” urged 
Dolly, "is it so?” 

"To be sure not,” answered Phil. 

"Have I ever in any way acted improperly to- 
ward you ?” 

"No, Dolly, you have been a very good girl in- 
deed ; and as long as I am satisfied, you need not 
concern yourself about any one else. As for these 
rumors, pay no attention to them. People, as a 
rule, as I have often told you, are malicious and 
cruel and delight in vilification ; and if you give 
heed to their slanders, it will only excite them to 
greater efforts. They have ground many a sen- 
sitive heart to pieces with their hard, flinty 


Odd Types 


409 


tonnes. There is only one way to treat them — 
with indifference and contempt. You and I know 
that our relations are pure. That is all that ought 
to be — that is necessary.’' 

'T thought so, too,” said Dolly, with a sigh, 
‘Tut I find I am wrong. These rumors uncon- 
tradicted have reached your wife’s ears, and they 
have poisoned her heart against me. She has 
been told that it was I who enticed you away from 
her. Is that true, Mr. Gloom ?” 

“It seems to me that question is superfluous, 
Dolly,” answered Phil. “You know, you did not. 
In fact, I have assured you, time and again, that 
you were in no way connected with our differ- 
ences.” 

“There,” exclaimed Dolly, talking into the air, 
as though addressing some one, “I’m sure that 
ought to prove my innocence. Have I not Urged 
you, Mr. Gloom, often and often, to make peace 
with your wife ?” 

“You have, Dolly,” answered Phil, in a tremu- 
lous voice, “and I — I, who deemed myself so 
much your superior in wisdom — I foolishly re- 
fused.” At these words, so different from what 
Dolly had expected, she sat up erect, and gazed at 
Phil, dumfounded. He, however, taking no no- 
tice of her astonishment, went on. “Yes, Dolly, I 
find that those who esteem themselves the wisest 
are often the most foolish. Your instinct was 
more unerring than my knowledge. I have made 
a discovery, Dolly — a discovery that overwhelms 
me with remorse. My wife — my wife, Dolly, is 
innocent.” 

“Oh, sir,” cried Dolly, instantly on her feet, 


410 


Odd Types 


overjoyed, ‘‘did I not tell you so? Did I not tell 
you so? And now that you are convinced of her 
innocence, now you will welcome her back, will 
you not?'' 

“If she would come," said Phil, in a choking 

voice, “I would welcome her gladly. But " 

and Phil shook his head — “I fear that will never 
be." 

“Oh, no one can tell, Mr. Gloom," said Dolly, 
with difficulty keeping herself from blurting out 
her secret. 

“No," continued Phil, mournfully, “she will 
never forgive my unjust condemnation of her 
conduct. I have been too harsh — too unkind, to 
expect mercy or pardon. Ah, Dolly, I thought I 
had almost done with suffering, but it seems I am 
only beginning. To love a woman and to punish 
her, in the belief that she has done wrong, is cer- 
tainly torture ; but to find out afterward that she 
is innocent is doubly so. I have not the hardi- 
hood to ask her forgiveness, for I feel that I am 
undeserving of it." 

“Oh, sir," remarked Dolly, “I see that you still 
do not know how noble a woman your wife is. If 
you fear to ask her, will you let me do it in your 
stead ?" 

“Willingly," answered Phil. “But," he added 
with a sigh, “it will be useless, Dolly." 

“I think not," replied Dolly, confidently. 
“When I tell her, how you still love her, hovv 
sorry you feel at what you have done, and how 
you yearn for her, when I tell her that you want 
her, I know that her answer will be " 


Odd Types 


41 1 

"‘Her answer will be '' interrupted Phil, 

taking the words from Dolly’s mouth. 

'Thil !” cried Miranda, suddenly appearing on 
the threshold of the little room. 

‘‘Miranda exclaimed Phil, starting up in glad 
surprise. 

For a moment both looked at each other with- 
out moving ; then with a mutual impulse, they fell 
into each other’s arms. For some minutes they 
remained in this position, neither uttering a word, 
Miranda gazing up at Phil’s noble countenance 
with deep affection, while Phil looked down upon 
the beautiful face on his shoulder with a glance of 
tenderest love. They had no need of words — 
these two — their eyes expressed everything. Af- 
ter a time both seemed to awake together to a 
sense of their surroundings, and moved, as it 
were, by the same thought, they glanced about 
for Dolly — but Dolly was gone. 

Diffident, tarnished soul ! when she had seen the 
accomplishment of that for which she had so zeal- 
ously labored, when she beheld man and wife 
clasping each other with renewed affection, she 
quietly, stealthily withdrew, her parched heart 
filled with a sense of joy it had not known for 
many a year. 


412 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER XXV. 

OUTWITTED. 

A FEW days later Brief received two letters. 
One was from Phil, announcing his reconcilia- 
tion' with Miranda and bidding him to discontinue 
the divorce suit at once. The other, far more dis- 
quieting in its nature, was from Minerva. In it 
she informed Brief that Demos, who was now at 
their home, had been there almost constantly for 
over two weeks : that he was paying assiduous 
court to her mother, and that, unless all signs 
failed, he would soon ask the momentous ques- 
tion, to which she had not the least doubt he 
would receive an affirmative answer. In the 
meantime she herself was leading a miserable ex- 
istence, hardly a moment free from her mother's 
espionage, and almost as harshly treated as a 
prisoner convicted of a capital offence. Not only 
that, but to add insult to injury, Demos was as- 
suming toward her such a tone of authority and 
guardianship that, unless the condition of affairs 
soon mended, she would not answer for the conse- 
quences. In conclusion, she begged Brief to send 
her a speedy response and tell her what to do. 

Though Brief regretted greatly that what he 
had thought would prove a celebrated case had 


Odd Types 


413 


thus ended In a fizzle, yet the crisis In his own 
affairs was of such grave gravity as to permit 
him no time for repining. Accordingly, con- 
vinced by Minerva's revelations that if he did not 
wish to lose her he must act with despatch. Brief 
immediately sat down and wrote her a reply. In 
as forcible a manner as he could he depicted the 
insurmountable obstacles which, if Minerva hesi- 
tated any longer, Demos's marriage would place 
in the way of the consummation of their plans, 
and how terrible would be the despotism which 
Demos, once her mother's husband, would un- 
doubtedly establish over her. In lively colors, 
also, he painted the awful misery and suffering 
they both would be sure to endure, if each should 
be forced to go through life without the other, 
and then, in a touching appeal, he begged 
Minerva not to delay a moment longer, but at the 
first opportunity to come to him and become his 
wife. He concluded, by directing her to come 
only in the daytime, and on her arrival in New 
York immediately to telephone him when he 
would meet her at a place designated, some four 
blocks away from the depot. 

When Minerva received this letter she was in 
such a desperate state of feeling that, had Brief 
proposed even a worse breach of societv's conven- 
tions, she would have acquiesced without hesita- 
tion. As it was. Brief's proposal met her views 
completely. She saw that if she ever hoped to 
marry Brief, she must do it by stealth, and rely 
upon her mother's forgiveness afterwards. To 
defy her mother openly would not only precipi- 


414 


Odd Types 


tate the latter’s marriage with Demos, but would 
probably prevent her own. 

So, secretly and by degrees, Minerva gathered 
together from time to time such articles of cloth- 
ing as were indispensable, and having folded them 
into as narrow a compass as possible, packed them 
neatly in a small valise. Then, when everything 
was in^ readiness, she patiently waited for an op- 
portunity to slip away. For some days none such 
offered itself ; but one afternoon while Demos and 
her mother were entertaining Mr. and Mrs. Joe 
Gloom and their darling Willie, Minerva, upon 
some slight pretext, without exciting any sus- 
picion of her purpose, quietly withdrew. Quickly 
mounting the stairs, she ran to her own room, and 
having sat down and penned a few lines to her 
mother, hastily donned her hat and, with satchel 
in hand, stole noiselessly down the back stairs and 
out into a side street. Unobserved and partly 
running, partly walking very rapidly, she made 
her way to the railroad station where, fortu- 
nately, a train for New York was just on the 
point of leaving. 

Scarcely taking time to breathe, Minerva 
rushed to the ticket office, and having purchased 
a ticket, hurried through the gate. She had 
hardly stepped on the platform of one of the cars 
when the train began to move. Dropping into the 
first seat she came to, she placed her valise beside 
her, and threw herself back, and then, observing 
through the window the fast receding landscape, 
gave a long, deep sigh of relief. 

That Minerva had been none too quick in her 
movements was soon shown. For, hardly had five 


Odd Types 


415 


minutes elapsed after her departure when Mrs. 
Shoddy, discovering her daughter's absence, ex- 
cused herself to the rest of the company, and went 
in search of her. At first she looked through 
the rooms on the ground floor, and not finding 
her there, proceeded to the second story. After 
peering into the front room, Mrs. Shoddy, now 
considerably alarmed, pushed open the door of 
Minerva's bedroom. The instant her eyes fell 
upon its confused appearance, her instinct told 
her that tliere was something wrong. Flight 
was the first thought that came to her mind ; but, 
still unwilling to believe this, Mrs. Shoddy, to be 
certain, stepped to the closet. As she opened the 
door, however, and beheld the box that usually 
contained Minerva's best hat empty, the last 
vestige of doubt disappeared. Starting back, she 
gave a scream — such a scream as in an instant 
brought every one of her visitors about her. Ex- 
pecting Mr. Demos to head the party, she had 
about prepared to faint in his arms, when to her 
chagrin the first face to show itself was Emma's. 
Instantly, Mrs. Shoddy changed her tactics and 
sank down on the bed. As Emma, followed by 
her husband and Demos, to whose coat tails Wil- 
lie was hanging (which clearly explained the 
cause of his tardiness) — all came anxiously to- 
ward her, Mrs. Shoddy put her hands to her face, 
and pushing back her straggling hair, moaned. 

‘‘Gracious me!" exclaimed Emma, “what on 
earth is the matter?" 

“Oh, Nervy! Nervy! Where is my Nervy?" 
groaned Mrs. Shoddy. 

“Your daughter?" said Emma. “Why, she 


Odd Types 


416 

was with us only a few minutes ago. She’s 
probably in the house somewhere.” 

“No, no ” cried Mrs. Shoddy, in a choking 

voice. “Look there,” pointing to the empty hat 
box, “she has gone away — she has run away !” 

“Run away !” exclaimed Demos. “Are you 
sure of that, Mrs. Shoddy? What could have 
been her motive?” 

“As I’ve often told you, Mr. Demos, she was 
infatuated with that lawyer, and, I suppose, be- 
cause I wouldn’t consent to let her have him, she’s 
run away. She often threatened to do it — often 
— ^but I thought I’d be too sharp for her. Oh, 
dear! who would have believed that the egg 
would be smarter than the hen I” 

“Hm,” muttered Demos, thoughtfully stroking 
his chin. 

“Oh, my friends,” exclaimed Mrs. Shoddy, 
looking at each one in turn, “what shall I do? 
Advise me !” 

“I should say, telephone to the police,” sug- 
gested Joe, in guttural tones. 

“Ha! exactly ” exclaimed Demos. “We’ll 

head her off before she reaches New York. 
Come,” and Demos started for the door, followed 
by Joe. 

“No, no,” cried Mrs. Shoddy, quickly. “Don’t 
do that. I’m not certain, you know. I’m not cer- 
tain. If I should be mistaken, see what a scandal 
it would create and how ridiculous it would make 
me appear." 

“But, my dear madam,” remonstrated Demos, 
“how else can we stop this snap convention?” 


Odd Types 417 

“I’ll tell you what you do,” interposed Emma, 
shrilly, “telephone to Mr. Brief ” 

“Faugh,” remarked Demos, “that would be 

yj 

‘'One moment/' interrupted Emma, "hear me 
out. Telephone to Mr. Brief that you are coming 
down this afternoon to see him, and ask whether 
he'll be in. From his answer, you'll be able to 
guess whether he expects the girl or not." 

"My wife is right," grunted Joe. "For, then, 
if we find that he’s waiting for your daughter, we 
can catch the next train and overtake her. What 
do you say ?" 

"Perhaps that would be best," remarked Mrs. 
Shoddy, with a deep sigh. "But before you tele- 
phone," she added, looking plaintively at Demos, 
"it would be well to look into the millinery store 
ne:?:t to the post-office. She may have gone there. 
Oh, I am so sorry to trouble you, gentlemen." 

Joe, muttering something down in the depths of 
his shoes that sounded like "Not at all," and 
Demos with an eloquent, stately sweep of the 
arm, exclaiming feelingly, "Don't mention it," 
now hurried off together. They were not gone 
over two minutes when, just as Mrs. Shoddy was 
in the midst of a recital of her troubles to Emma, 
Willie gave a shout, and running to his mother 
with a paper clutched in his hand, exclaimed : 

"Oh, ma, see what I found !" 

Emma, taking the paper from her son, unfolded 
it. It proved to be the note from Minerva to her 
mother. Having run her eyes over its contents, 
she offered it to Mrs. Shoddy, remarking sympa- 


4i8 Odd Types 

thetically: "Poor woman! It is Just as you 
thought. Minerva has run away.” 

''She has, has she!” exclaimed Mrs. Shoddy, 
springing to her feet, her indignation now over- 
topping her grief. “Well, let her take care — let 
her take care. Fve been kind so far, Mrs. Gloom, 
but I’m changed now. Too much boiling, you 
know, will spoil any dish. What does she say?” 

"She says,” said Emma, referring to the paper, 
"that she is about to take a very serious step, 
which once taken can never be retraced; that, 
much as she regrets it, she is forced to do so with- 
out your consent. She feels, however, that upon 
reflection you will forgive her.” 

"Never,” cried Mrs. Shoddy, with vehemence, 
"never will I forgive her. I know where she has 
gone to, and I shall follow her. Come, Mrs. 
Gloom, you go with me,” and with an energy that 
was remarkable in a woman of her proportions, 
Mrs. Shoddy hurried to the closet, and taking 
from one of its dark corners her favorite hat with 
the bobbing feather, began to adjust it on her 
head. 

"Where do you intend to go, Mrs. Shoddy?” 
queried Emma, who had also arisen. 

"To New York,” answered Mrs. Shoddy. "I 
know where I’ll find her, the ungrateful child.” 

"Hadn’t we better wait,” suggested Emma, 
"until my husband and Mr. Demos return ?” 

"No,” said Mrs. Shoddy, with great determina- 
tion, "we can meet them on the way, and so save 
time.” 

Having nothing to urge against this proposi- 
tion, Emma got Willie and herself ready, and 


Odd Types 419 

shortly afterward the three started off at a brisk 

g:ait. 

In the meantime Demos and Joe Gloom, not 
having found Minerva in the millinery store, had 
gone to a pharmacy nearby, and entered the tele- 
phone booth. It was agreed between them that 
Brief would be less suspicious if Joe telephoned 
rather than Demos. 

‘‘Be careful,’’ remarked Demos, as Joe was in 
the act of ringing up, “of what you say. It would 
be well, perhaps, to make the message as short as 
possible. It is not politic to talk too much.” 

“Well,” growled Joe, taking umbrage at 
Demos’s gratuitous advice, “if you think you can 
do this thing better, go ahead,” and he started to 
rise. 

“My dear Joe,” protested Demos, “how fiery 
you are ! By no means — by no means. I know 
you are capable of filling the chairmanship of this 
committee, but as one of its members I merely 
wished to make a friendly suggestion.” 

“Well ” began Joe, grumbling, but just 

then he was interrupted l3y a sharp “Hello!” in 
the familiar voice of Brief. 

“Is this Mr. James Brief?” asked Joe, in sten- 
torian tones. 

“Yes,” came back the answer. “Who is this?” 

“Mr. Joseph Gloom,” replied Joe. 

“Oh,” responded Brief. “What can I do for 
you ?” 

“I have an important matter to see you about. 
Will you be in this afternoon ?” 

“Better state the time, Joe,” said Demos. 

“Say about five o’clock ?” added Joe. 


420 


Odd Types 


‘T think so,” replied Brief. 

“Tell him,” suggested Demos, unaware that 
Brief could hear him, “tell him it concerns him- 
self and Miss Shoddy, and to be sure and wait 
for you.” 

“Don’t you think,” began Joe, talking to 
Demos, “he may suspect something if I say that ?” 

“Not at all. It’s by telling the truth that you 
can best deceive, for usually people don’t believe 
you.” 

“Jlello,” called Joe. 

“Hello,” responded Brief, repressing carefully 
the sound of his chuckling. 

“This is a matter of great interest to you,” con- 
tinued Joe. “It concerns also Miss Shoddy.” 

“Ah, indeed,” returned Brief. “Then I’ll be 
doubly sure to wait for you. Tell Miss Shoddy 
to come to the ’phone a moment.” 

“Oh, she isn’t here,” replied Joe, taken off his 
guard. 

“Too bad,” came back Brief’s response. 

“Evidently, he knows nothing about her run- 
ning away,” remarked Demos. 

At these words, Brief, at the other end of the 
wire, pricked up his ears. Joe waved his hand to 
Demos to keep quiet, and winked, as Brief, after 
a pause, added : “I’ve just looked in my dairy, and 
find I’ll be out until four-thirty, or a little later. 
If so, don’t get nervous, for I’ll be certain to be 
back. Good-bye.” 

“Good-bye,” called Joe, and hanging up the 
receiver, he broke into a broad smile. 

“What did he say?” asked Demos. 

“Why, he’s as good as trapped,” answered Joe. 


Odd Types 


421 


'Tt seems he has an engagement that will keep 
him away from the office until four-thirty. So 
even if Miss Shoddy gets there ahead of us, she 
won’t be able to accomplish anything.” 

“Ah, very good — very good, indeed,” com- 
mented Demos, rubbing his hands as they walked 
away. 'Tate is clearly playing in our favor. 
“We’ll be on the ground before the snap conven- 
tion has even seated its delegates.” 

They had hardly walked a block when they en- 
countered Mrs. Shoddy, Emma and Willie. In a 
few words, Mrs. Shoddy outlined her resolution, 
and it being, as Demos put it, unanimously 
adopted, the whole party started for the railroad 
depot. 

Now, the surmise of Demos, that Brief knew 
nothing of Minerva’s flight, was only partially 
correct. True, he knew nothing of it until Joe 
began to telephone, but the moment Joe men- 
tioned that he wished to see Brief about a matter 
that concerned himself and Miss Shoddy, Brief 
at once suspected that something important had 
occurred. This suspicion was changed into cer- 
tainty when he heard Demos’s remark about his 
ignorance of Minerva’s departure ; and so, to put 
Joe and his party off the scent. Brief invented the 
story about an engagement that would keep him 
from the office until late in the afternoon. 

The moment Brief had heard Joe’s “good-bye,” 
he summoned Clumsy to him. 

“Clumsy,” exclaimed Brief, as soon as that 
faithful youth made his appearance at the 
threshold in a sprawl, “I have just received very 
'important news; and as the happiness of my 


422 


Odd Types 


whole life is at stake, I want you to pay strict 
attention to what I say/' 

‘"Yes, sir," answered Clumsy, gathering in his 
widely divergent limbs, and putting hmself in a 
fairly upright posture. 

‘'You have no doubt noticed the more than 
friendly feeling that has for some time existed be- 
tween Miss Minerva Shoddy and myself." 

Clumsy grinned. 

‘T knew it, you young rascal. I shouldn’t won- 
der you’ve done some peeking, too." 

At this accusation Clumsy blushed so violently 
that the freckles on his face looked like great yel- 
low blotches of butter in contrast. 

“Well," continued Brief, “I’ll forgive you this 
time. It is natural, I suppose, to be curious. It is 
also natural, however, to be treacherous ; and that 
is what I want to guard against. Now, will you 
promise to keep faith with me if I entrust you 
with a secret ?" 

“Wish I may die, if I don’t, sir," replied 
Clumsy earnestly. 

“Very well. If you are faithful. I’ll reward 
you substantially. This matter in which I am 
now engaged is in the nature of an action of re- 
plevin. Mrs. Shoddy claims that her daughter is 
her property, and I claim her as mine. Under- 
stand ?" Clumsy nodded in the affirmative. 
“Now, Miss Shoddy is on her way to New York, 
and in ten minutes I am going to leave here to 
meet her. If nothing untoward happens, I shall 
take possession of her, and give a bond — in fact, 
no other than a bond of matrimony — to cover all 


Odd Types 


423 


damages any one may suffer by reason of my 
taking and detainer. Do you comprehend?’’ 

‘‘Yes, sir,” answered Clumsy, “you’re goin’ to 
git hitched.” 

“Exactly. You have put that forcibly and con- 
cisely,” said Brief, with a smile. “Now, your 
duty will consist in preventing any one from in- 
terfering with us. At five o’clock Miss Shoddy’s 
mother and some friends will probably come here 
and question you. You know nothing. Under- 
stand ?” Again Clumsy nodded acquiescence. 
“Offer no explanations, and answer all questions 
as shortly as possible. I shall leave on my desk 
here a few lines addressed to Mrs. Shoddy, and if 
they still linger at five-thirty, you come in, and 
pretend to have just discovered them. One 
perusal,” chuckled Brief, “will suffice. They 
won’t stay long after that.” 

“Is that all, sir?” asked Clumsy, gravely, im- 
pressed with a sense of his own importance. 

“I believe so,” replied Brief, taking out of his 
desk a sheet of paper, and starting to write. “Oh, 
no!” he exclaimed, a moment afterward. “One 
thing more. If Miss Shoddy happens to tele- 
phone, tell her I’m already on my way.” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Clumsy, and shuffling along 
slowly, without a single misstep, he resumed his 
seat in the outer office. 

After a moment’s thought. Brief indited the 
following : 

“Dear Mrs. Shoddy: 

“For some reason, not plain to me, you have 
bitterly opposed my addresses to your daughter. 
Ordinarily such opposition would at once have 


424 


Odd Types 


put an end to pressing my suit ; but in the present 
instance, our regard for each other is so great 
that we have resolved to let nothing on earth keep 
us apart. Knowing that we cannot at present 
hope^ for your approval, we have reluctantly de- 
termined to follow the only other course left open 
to us and marry without it. By the time this will 
have reached you, we shall already be man and 
wife, and will then await your sanction at your 
convenience, 

‘‘Yours respectfully, 

''James Brief.*'^ 

Folding it, Brief placed the missive in an en- 
velope, and having sealed it, addressed it to ‘‘Mrs. 
Shoddy — Present.'’ Upon consulting his watch, 
Brief found that it was just time to leave, and so. 
after a last survey around to see that everything 
was in order, he started out. 

As he passed Clumsy, who was beguiling the 
time drawing fantastic figures upon a paper that 
lay before him. Brief stopped an instant and 
said : 

“Well, Clumsy, you are certain you understand 
what you are to do?" 

“Yes, sir," answered Clumsy, with a leer. 

^ “Well, then, good-bye," said Brief, holding out 
his hand. 

“Good-bye, sir," answered Clumsy, grasping it 
heartily. “Hope you git the goods." 

“Ha ! ha !" laughed Brief, going toward the 
door. “No fear of that, Clumsy — and they're the 
finest in the world, too.'*' 

The next instant. Brief was gone. 

“H'm," muttered Clumsy to himself as the door 


Odd Types 


425 


closed on his employer, “he’s in great luck. She’s 
a fine gal,” and then he resumed his Raphaelitic 
occupation. He was just putting a Roman hel- 
met on a man in nineteenth century dress, when 
the telephone bell began to ring. 

“That’s her,” remarked Clumsy, dropping his 
pencil, and hurrying to answer the ring. 

“Hello,” called Clumsy. 

• “Hello,” came back in the clear, feminine voice 
of Minerva. “Is that you, dear James?” 

“No,” answered Clumsy, with a broad grin, 
“this ain’t James, this is his clerk.” 

“Oh — Clement,” returned Minerva. “Will you 
kindly tell Mr. Brief to come to the telephone 
immediately ?” 

“Can’t,” replied Clumsy. “He ain’t in.” 

“Dear me,” wailed the voice of Minerva, with 
a trembling note of dismay. “Whither has he 
gone, Clement?” 

“Gone to meet you,” replied Clumsy. “He told 
me to tell you if you rang up that he’s already on 
the way.” 

“Oh, thank you,” came the response, quick as a 
snapshot, and at the same instant there was a 
ring off. 

“Gee,” remarked Clumsy, as he made his way 
back to, his desk, “but won’t I have fun with them 
people when they git here ! Gee !” Whenever 
Clumsy used the monosyllable “Gee,” it was a 
sign of some extremely pleasurable anticipation. 

For the next half hour Clumsy continued to 
amuse himself with his caricatures ; then becom- 
ing uneasy, he threw down his pencil and began 
tumbling around the office. He had gone back 


426 


Odd Types 


to his desk for about the tenth time, when sud- 
denly the door was pushed open, and there bore 
down upon him Mrs. Shoddy, with Demos, Joe, 
Emma and Willie following in her wake in the 
order named. Clumsy, seeing this formidable 
array, immediately went back to his desk and 
seated himself; then assuming as vacant a look 
as he could, he silently awaited the attack. Still 
remembering, however, his previous experiences- 
with Willie, he took up a ruler which lay near at 
hand and began flourishing it in a conspicuous 
manner, as a warning evidently that he was pre- 
pared to give as good as he received. As events 
proved, this was, in this instance, an unnecessar}; 
precaution ; for Willie, having on the way down, 
broken a car seat and smashed a window, his maw 
of mischief was, for the time, completely satiated. 

'Ts Mr. Brief in?'’ inquired Mrs. Shoddy, in 
high, irate tones, as she loomed up before the 
imperturbed Clumsy. 

'‘No, ma'am," answered Clumsy, without look- 
ing up. 

"When do you expect him ?" 

"Can't tell," replied Clumsy, leaning lazily back 
in his chair. 

"He'll be back again to-day, won't he?" 

"Don't know," was the stenographic rejoinder. 

"What do you know?" growled Joe, irritated, 

"Nothin’," returned Clumsy, with a blank ex- 
pression of countenance. 

"Well, if he ain't the stupidest 1" remarked 
Emma, shrilly. 

"Yes'm," ejaculated Clumsy. 


Odd Types 427 

‘T didn't talk to you," retorted Emma, with an 
angry glare. 

“Do you know where he has gone to?" asked 
Mrs. Shoddy. 

“Nope," answered Clumsy, giving the desk a 
slap with the ruler. 

“Didn't he say anything to you at all when he 
went out?" 

“Nope." 

“I see it all, Mr. Demos," exclaimed Mrs. 
Shoddy, turning in despair to that gentleman. 
“Mr. Brief has anticipated our visit. The boy 
delivers his answers, as Mr. Brief prepared 
them." 

“That is hardly possible," returned Demos. 
“Come," he added, with a deprecatory cough, “let 
me try the lad." And laboring under the mis- 
taken impression that Clumsy could be handled 
like a politician, to whom the taking of a bribe is 
as natural as eating a meal, he set to work ac- 
cordingly. “Clumsy, my boy," said he, “look at 
me." Clumsy did so. “Now, observe what I 
have between my fingers." Clumsy raised his 
eyes as directed, and Demos, diving down into 
his vest pocket, presently drew forth a dollar bill. 
“What is that?" queried Demos, flashing it be- 
fore him unctuously. 

“A dollar, sir," replied Clumsy, but with such 
cool indifference that Demos, who had expected 
the boy's eyes to bulge out, and glitter at the 
sight, was completely taken back. However, 
having once introduced a bill. Demos was bound 
to carry it through — at least, to a second reading. 

“Well," said he, “would you like to earn it?" 


428 


Odd Types 


“Yes, sir,” answered Clumsy. 

“Good. You shall have it ” 

“Thank you, sir,” broke in Clumsy, promptly. 

“One moment,” exclaimed Demos, frowning, 
“give me a chance to finish. You shall have it, 
provided you will answer my questions. What I 
am after is a little information, which I believe 
you can furnish. Now the point is, will you?” 

“If I know anything, sir,” replied Clumsy, with 
caution. 

This being a rather dubious promise. Demos 
looked at the lad to fathom his meaning. After 
a moment’s scrutiny, however, his face bright- 
ened. The thought struck him that, like himself 
and many others of his ilk. Clumsy probably 
wanted to be certain of his reward before com- 
mitting himself. So, folding up the bill. Demos 
dropped it into Qumsy’s hand, at the same time 
observing with a wink, “You’re all right. 
Clumsy. You’ll get on in the world if any one 
does. There, you can have it in advance to 
show my good faith.” 

“Much obliged,” said Clumsy, taking the 
money and pushing it deep down into his pocket 
to make it secure. 

“Now, then,” resumed Demos, feeling certain 
that he had at last won Clumsy over, body and 
soul, “tell us frankly, do you know where Mr. 
Brief is?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Haven’t the slightest idea?” asked Demos, 
with a frown. 

“Nope,” answered Clumsy, shaking his head 
vigorously from side to side. 


Odd Types 


429 

'Tie didn’t leave the office alone, did he?” 
queried Demos. 

"Yep.” 

"Sure?” continued Demos, holding his finger 
up wamingly. 

"Sure.” 

"But he said where he was going?” 

"No, sir.” 

"Are you telling the truth ?” asked Demos, eye- 
ing him severely. 

"Yes, sir, I am. Honest !” said Clumsy, with 
apparently earnest candor. "Wish I may die on 
this spot, if I ain’t.” At the same time he gave 
his chair such a quick twist to the right that he 
almost upset it. 

"H’m!” remarked Demos. "That is rather 
strange. "Didn’t he say a single word to you be- 
fore he left?” ^ 

"Oh — yes, sir,” admitted Clumsy, slowly and 
with an air of reluctance. 

"Ah,” commented Demos, rubbing his hands 
together, "now we’re getting at it. What did he 
say ?” 

"He told me if he wasn’t back to close up the 
office at half past five.” 

"Was that all?” asked Demos, visibly disap- 
pointed. 

"Them was his last words, sir,” replied 
Clumsy, evading a categorical response. 

"Do you believe that?” growled Joe, in tones 
of disgust. 

"I have no reason for disbelieving it,” returned 
Demos. 


430 Odd Types 

"Well, I have,’’ grunted Joe. ""In the first 
place ” 

Just then came the sound of a crash, and every 
one, startled, rushed into the front office to see 
what had happened. Arrived there, they beheld 
Willie, the sweet, innocent child, crouching on 
the floor, with the upper part of the revolving 
chair tipped over him. 

""Oh,” screamed Emma, rushing forward, ""it’s 
my Willie — ^my poor Willie! Oh, dear, are you 
hurt ?” 

""Hurt!” answered that little cherub, crawling 
out and rubbing his head contemptuously, ""naw.” 

""Oh,” screeched his mother, as she stood him 
up and dusted off his clothes, ""you’ll be the 
death of me yet one of these days. What on 
earth have you been doing?” 

""Nothin’,” answered the darling. ""I just was 
turning round when I fell off.” 

""I see,” remarked Demos, picking up the de- 
tached part of the chair, and adjusting it to the 
other part, preparatory to screwing them to- 
gether, ""the screw came out of the thread, that’s 
all.” 

He had revolved the upper part two or three 
times, when, chancing to glance at the desk, he 
gave a start and stopped. 

""Why,” he exclaimed, going nearer and pick- 
ing up an envelope, ""here is a note, Mrs. Shoddy, 
addressed to you.” 

""To me !” exclaimed that lady. 

""Yes,” said Demos, glancing at the super- 
scription, ""and it is in Mr. Brief’s handwriting.” 

""Ah!” cried Mrs. Shoddy, as she tremblingly 


Odd Types 


431 

tore it open, '‘now we’ll get the recipe of all this 
mysteriousness.” 

Hardly had she perused the fifst line, however, 
when she let her hands fall limply to her sides, 
and sank down, like a collapsed balloon, into a 
chair. 

"My dear Mrs. Shoddy,” cried Demos, alarmed, 
hastening towards her, "what’s the trouble?” 

"Read, Mr. Demos, read,” said Mrs. Shoddy, 
in tragic tones, giving him the paper. "It’s all 
over. My goose is cooked, Mr. Demos, my goose 
is cooked.” 

For the benefit of Joe and Emma, Demos read 
the contents aloud. When he had finished, each 
looked at the other in mute inquiry. 

"Well,” observed Emma, in her shrill treble, 
after a short silence, "that settles it. I don’t see 
as we can do anything more here. We might as 
well go home now. The lawyer has tricked us, 
and that is all there is to it.” 

"Yes,” joined in Joe, in his deepest bass, "he 
has won out, and there is no help for it.” 

"Too bad, too bad,” lamented Demos. "To 
think that they should introduce a measure and 
carry it through under our very noses, without 
giving us a chance even to filibuster. Look at 
the poor woman,” he continued, in accents of 
pity, pointing to Mrs. Shoddy ; "she seems utterly 
prostrated.” 

"Oh, come, Mrs. Shoddy,” said Emma, "don’t 
take on that way. Your daughter has made her 
bed, so now let her lie on it. If I were you, I’d 
not even give them the satisfaction of grieving 
over it.” 


Odd Types 


‘T won’t, either,” exclaimed Mrs. Shoddy, sud- 
denly recovering herself and rising. ‘Tf her cake 
turns out all dough, she will be the one to suffer — 
not I. Come, let us go,” and escorted by Demos, 
and followed by Joe, Emma and Willie, in cres- 
cent formation, Mrs. Shoddy heaved anchor, and 
moved majestically away. 

Clumsy, his face one broad grin, followed them 
with his eyes until they had disappeared down 
the hallway; then, turning around and giving a 
deep chuckle, he hit his leg a self-satisfied slap, 
and proceeded to put things in order for closing 
the office for the day. 

Meanwhile, the disgruntled troupe of Shoddy, 
Demos and company, having boarded a car and 
been conveyed to the railroad depot, were in the 
course of another half hour again headed for 
home. On the way, as may be supposed, they 
discussed the runaway couple pretty thoroughly, 
and were particularly unsparing in their condem- 
nation of Brief — Emma, of course, taking the 
lead, she having by nature been especially fitted 
for just such gossip. 

Their journey, which was of an hour’s dura- 
tion, seemed about to end without untoward inci- 
dent, when just as the train was approaching 
their station, Willie, who hitherto had kept won- 
derfully quiet, was suddenly discovered by the 
brakeman, with the signal lamp in his lap, the 
light out and the glass off. As the latter rushed 
toward him, Willie, in his fright, dropped the 
glass, and it broke into a thousand splinters. The 
brakeman, now thoroughly angered, pulled the 
other parts of the lamp roughly out of Willie’s 


Odd Types 


433 


hand, and then started in to give him a good 
berating. At his very first words, however, 
Emma, attracted by the commotion, came hur- 
riedly to her Willie's rescue, backed by her hus- 
band, Joe. The brakeman, unlike ordinary mor- 
tals, instead of being intimidated by this show of 
force, became more abusive, and made sarcastic 
remarks about people not knowing how to bring 
up their children, and so forth. This, of course, 
only served to add fuel to the fire, and to the in- 
tense amusement of the rest of the passengers, the 
brakeman, Joe and Emma then and there entered 
into a wordy warfare that continued uninter- 
ruptedly until the two latter reached their des- 
tination. 

Like all irate travellers, Joe on alighting de- 
manded the brakeman's name and number, and 
upon receiving them, vowed he would report him 
and have him dismissed. 

Thus ignominiously ended the punitory expe- 
dition of Shoddy and Demos and their sympa- 
thizers. 


434 


Odd Types 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE TYPES IN FINAL FORM. 

When Joe and Emma arrived home, Jane and 
Sandy informed them at once of Dolly’s visit and 
Miranda’s departure, saying that the two had 
gone away together, apparently on the best of 
terms. This news puzzled Joe, but not Emma. 

‘‘Joe,” said Emma, in that shrill voice of hers, 
as soon as they were alone, “there’s something in 
the wind, as sure as you are born.” 

“I know that,” growled Joe ; “but what — that’s 
the question.” 

“I have a feeling,” continued Emma, “that 
Miranda isn’t coming back any more.” 

“I don’t think we’ll be very sorry,” commented 
Joe; “for I’m thinking, if she’d stayed here any 
longer, we’d have had to keep her for nothing.” 

“Very likely,” said his wife. “I know she was 
down pretty low ; for when she paid me last week 
I saw only a two dollar bill left in her purse. It’ll 
really be a stroke of fortune if Phil agrees to take 
her back.” 

“I don’t think he will, though.” 

“Don’t be too certain, Joe,” observed Emma, 
with a wise air. “Stranger things than that have 
happened. If it does come about, we must try to 


Odd Types 435 

persuade Phil that it was all our doing. Under- 
stand 

''Huh/" remarked Joe, contemptuously, "he"s 
likely to believe us after the way we have abused 
him/" 

"Oh, we can easily explain that,” retorted the 
crafty Emma. "We’ll say we felt so sorry for 
Miranda, and were so disappointed when it 
seemed impossible to make peace between them, 
that we were carried away by our sympathy for 
her. By having taken her in, when Phil drove 
her away, we have put Miranda under deep obli- 
gations, and the fact that we took pity on her will 
make Phil forget everything else. So, perhaps, 
one can never tell, you know, in their gratitude, 
they may reward us handsomely. At least,” 
added the wily diplomatist, "it is no harm to try. ’ 

"No, it’s no harm to try, ’’echoed Joe. "Be- 
sides, after all, Phil is my brother, and he’s not 
half as bad as I sometimes think him.” 

Shortly afterward the family sat down to sup- 
per, which they had hardly completed, when Jane 
brought in a note, stating that it had just been 
left by one of Mr. Phil Gloom’s servants. Emma, 
being the nearest, took the note, tore open the en- 
velope, and proceeded to master its contents. 

"There,” she exclaimed, after a silent perusal, 
handing the missive to her husband, "wasn’t I 
right?” 

Joe, after reading it slowly, laid it down, say- 
ing : "You certainly were, Em. Shall I send 
Sandy up there with those articles she mentions ?” 

"Send Sandy !” returned Emma. "By no 
means. To-morrow morning you and I will go 


436 


Odd Types 


up ourselves. The return of those things Is the 
best excuse, in the world for our calling on them, 
and that'll give us an excellent chance to make 
friends with Phil again." 

Having absolute faith in his wife’s judgment, 
Joe acquiesced, and the next morning the two pro- 
ceeded to Phil’s house together. They were re- 
ceived by Miranda and Phil. with apparent cor- 
diality. Though by this time Miranda knew 
what faith to place in Emma’s professions of 
friendship, she made no sign of doubting her sin- 
cerity. Emma’s acute intuition, however, soon 
discovered that Miranda was far more reserved 
than formerly, and it warned her that her influ- 
ence in that quarter was on the wane. As for 
Joe, in spite of his enviousness and irascibility, 
Miranda had quite a warm regard for him. Like 
Phil, she had become convinced that if it were not 
for Emma, he would be as amiable a man as one 
could find anywhere. But his wife’s nagging and 
her constant comparison between his position and 
that of his brother naturally embittered Joe, and 
made him feel as though the world had done him 
a grievous wrong and had favored Phil unjustly. 
Phil had recognized Joe’s faults long ago, and 
though the latter’s constant complaints and accu- 
sations of unkindness on his part often hurt Phil 
deeply, his resentment was always short lived, 
and invariably terminated in a remittance. Emma, 
however, Phil only tolerated out of regard for his 
brother. He had not liked her from the first mo- 
ment of their acquaintanceship, and the longer he 
knew her the greater grew his repugnance toward 
her. The chief cause of his dislike was Emma’s 


Odd Types 


437 : 


tinderhandedness. All her acts had about them 
the manner of a snake in the grass, and if there 
was one thing, above all others, that Phil could 
not tolerate, it was duplicity. But his late experi- 
ences had taught him the value of self-restraint ; 
and when Emma and Joe finally took their leave, 
Phil showed equally as much amiability as did 
Miranda. 

During the next few evenings Phil and 
Miranda had quite a number of visitors, who pre- 
tended to call from pure neighborly feelings, but 
who in reality were actuated by curiosity. They 
went away, as most acquaintances do, with warm 
words of friendship on their tongues and malice 
in their hearts. Of course, they all predicted that 
the reunion of husband and wife would be of 
short duration ; and, among themselves, ridiculed 
the frank show of renewed affection that Phil 
and Miranda displayed toward each other. 

Whether the charitable prediction, that hus- 
band and wife would not long remain together, 
will come true or not, will depend, in the future, 
as it has in the past, entirely upon themselves. 
For the present, at least, both are happy and con- 
tented. Miranda has learned how insincere most 
people are, and therefore has no particular yearn- 
ing for their society; while Phil, perceiving how 
futile the effort to raise the world to one’s ideals, 
make crooked things straight, or convert devils 
into angels, has wholly abandoned the task, and 
is the happier for it. Letting the world go on as 
it will and devoting themselves exclusively to each 
other, they have at last found the true key to 
bliss. The only one admitted and welcomed with- 


438 


Odd Types 


in this charmed circle is Dolly, who sits at times 
at their hearth, like a spectator at a theatre, de- 
lighting as much as the actors themselves in the 
happiness there revealed. 

However, the fact that Phil and Miranda no 
longer concern themselves about others does not 
argue that the latter are not worthy of notice. 
While this chastened pair are in the midst of 
their second honeymoon, another pair are enter- 
ing their first. Mrs. Shoddy, abandoned by her 
daughter, and feeling herself very much alone, 
has turned to Daniel Demos for companionship, 
and her appeal has not been in vain. They are as 
pleased with each other as ‘‘two turtle doves'’ (to 
use Mrs. Shoddy's expression), or as “two candi- 
dates on the same ticket" (to borrow Demos’s 
sirnile). Mrs. Shoddy devotes herself to cooking 
dainty dishes for Demos, while Demos regales 
Mrs. Shoddy with extracts from his speeches. 
Each admires the skill of the other, in their re- 
spective vocations, and everything goes along as 
swimmingly as a fish in melted butter, or a ticket 
in a primary election. Though Minerva has writ- 
ten to her mother, the latter has refrained from 
replying, not from any desire to be harsh, but be- 
cause she wishes to postpone the reconciliation 
until after her marriage. When that has become 
a fact she intends to send her daughter a gracious 
pardon. 

Meanwhile Brief and Minerva, untroubled by 
the absence of the maternal blessing, are enjoy- 
ing an extended wedding tour, at the termination 
of which they intend to take up their permanent 
residence in New York. That this course is a 


Odd Types 


439 


wise one, none will deny. Not only will it enable 
Brief to attend more closely to his legal practice, 
if he should, under the changed conditions, still 
desire to pursue his profession, but it possesses 
the additional merit of fostering a deeper affection 
between Minerva and her mother. Nothing en- 
genders so profound a regard between relatives as 
separation. It is then, and then only, that our 
failings are lost to view and our good qualities 
alone remembered. Excellent, however, as these 
reasons are, they by no means constitute those of 
Brief and Minerva. The motives that have 
prompted these two young people to choose the 
city as their future home are totally different. On 
the part of Minerva it is social ambition; on the 
part of Brief political. With her wealth and edu- 
cation, Minerva expects in time to gain entrance 
into the glittering precincts of the most exclusive 
circles ; while Brief has rosy dreams of buying 
some political office, and thence rising step by 
step to find himself at length in a position to pur- 
chase a United States Senatorship. Both of these 
ambitions are honorable, and by reason of the 
resources of the parties, quite possible of attain- 
ment. Nor has Brief, in spinning his brilliant 
visions, forgotten his humble servitor. Clumsy. 
As an earnest of his future patronage, he has 
already sent him a handsome sum of money, and 
a letter so full of promises, that the poor lad's 
hopes have been raised to the seventh heaven of 
ecstacy. 

But while this ambitious couple and their 
grateful vassal are thus disporting themselves in 
the glimmer of anticipation, one of their former 


440 


Odd Types 


acquaintances is basking in the full glow of reali- 
sation. This individual is none other than Grab. 
As time passes, he seems to shrink within himself 
more and more, venturing out only at very long 
intervals, when absolutely forced thereto by a 
failure of provisions ; and even then, making his 
purchases with feverish haste and hurrying back 
at top speed, as though he begrudged every mo- 
ment spent away from his home. His yellow skin 
has turned more yellow, his face has become more 
wrinkled, and his whole body has shriveled and 
dried up so that he resembles nothing so much 
as one of his own African images. The only ani- 
mation about him is in his deep, black eyes, which 
still sparkle and snap with their old-time fire. All 
day long now he sits amid his knick-knacks and 
antiques, examining and fondling them over and 
over again, and hovering above them with the 
same intense gratification as a miser counting his 
gold. No longer cares he for the outside world — • 
its loves and its hates, its joys and its sorrows. 
Nay, more — he has even forgotten the pretty gar- 
den to which formerly he devoted so much atten- 
tion. Little concern does it give him whether 
Willie tramples down the potato plants or tears 
up the flower beds, so long as he can sit undis- 
turbed and alone among his curios. 

Willie in some manner seems to have discov- 
ered this, and having found that even the de- 
struction of his fence has failed to arouse Grab 
from his indifference, he has withdrawn from the 
scene in disgust, and carried his mischievous 
energies elsewhere. 

That the boy, if he retains the same traits of 


Odd Types 


441 


character which he has thus far displayed, will, 
when he reaches man’s estate, be certain to 
achieve great success, no one will for a moment 
dispute. Unhampered by any fine sense of honor, 
untroubled by such a thing as a conscience, not 
debilitated by soft nurture or the refinement of 
study, imbued with no illusions as to honesty, 
goodness or other virtues, having regard for no 
one but himself, brutal, self-assertive, unscrupu- 
lous and shrewd, he will be preeminently fitted to 
go out into the rough world and wrest from it 
some of its most valued prizes. 

• And now, only a few words more, before this 
narrative closes, in reference to Felice. Since 
that day in Brief’s office, when his insincerity was 
so completely unmasked, he has given both Phil 
and Miranda a wide berth. Gratified at having 
so happily escaped what had threatened to become 
a very unpleasant affair and with a sneer on his 
smiling lips at what he is pleased to call his for- 
mer friends’ ‘'bigoted prudery,” this model man 
of the world has laughingly resumed his merry 
course of breaking hearts and wrecking lives 
with the same cheerful cynicism as heretofore. 
In the eyes of mothers with marriageable daugh- 
ters, who know the extent of his wealth, his con- 
nection with the troubles of the Glooms has, if 
anything, enhanced his attractiveness. Without 
a thought of the misery he has inflicted, they ap- 
plaud the exploits of this modern Don Juan with 
as great a warmth as ever did the supposedly 
immoral society of long ago those of his proto- 
type. But despite all their cajolements, they have 
not yet succeeded in ensnaring Felice into a 


442 


Odd Types 


matrimonial entanglement. Nor will they for 
many years to come. Knowing that with his 
means he can go into the marriage mart at any 
time and buy a wife whenever he chooses, Felice 
is in no great haste to put his neck in what he 
terms ‘‘the marital halter.'' With that same 
blithe selfishness that has characterized all his con- 
duct, he has resolved to pursue his jolly bachelor 
course to the utmost limit — until, indeed, its very • 
freedom palls on him. Then, when he has be- 
come decrepit and enfeebled, when the sense of 
enjoyment has become dulled, when the world and 
all its allurements have taken on that grey, ashen 
hue, presented to the eye of him who has over- 
indulged, then doubtless this much admired hero 
of the twentieth century will graciously bestow 
his hand upon some lovely lady worthy of his 
station, and condescendingly enthrone her in the 
charnal house of his heart. In his choice, to be 
sure, he will not be swayed by any silly notions of 
love or sentiment ; no true man of the world ever 
is. Nevertheless, he will by no means disregard 
personal beauty, that is, provided all other condi- 
tions are entirely fulfilled. On the contrary, like 
most of his class, he is more than likely to select 
for his mate some pure, young and verdant heart, 
inexperienced and ingenuous, and entwining 
about it the sapless tendrils of his decayed affec- 
tions, blight it in its bloom. Jaded and satiated, 
he will now probably settle down into a state of 
sedate, moral austerity — inveighing, at the slight- 
est provocation, with lofty eloquence, against the 
vile and vicious machinations of fallen women. 
Moved by the memory of the misery he has 


Odd Types 


443 


caused and the injuries he has inflicted, he will 
hate these poor creatures as intensely and perse- 
cute them as relentlessly as oppressors usually do 
those whom they have most deeply injured. And 
to the day of his death he will prove their bitter- 
est foe. 

Such is human nature, and such are some of its 
types. 


FINIS 


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